PASSION FOR TINION (WIP Novel 120,000 words)
© Cupideros, October 21, 2006 


CHAPTER 8: ORDER OF THE GOLDEN ROSE


Quoardian women by the thousands shopping after sunset on Samhain Day entered select stores posting major price reductions.  They gave cursory scans to the products before proceeding to the basement.  In the basement, they entered unmarked doors leading to an immense underground tunnel network.  Footsteps echo by the thousands.  New Order of the Golden Robe attendees received a shopping bag from designated store clerks.  After entering the labyrinth, each woman put on her long red robe with its too long sleeves and too large hood.  The hood’s shadow protected their face visibility.  No woman knew any other woman’s identity as they walked for fifteen minutes to twenty-five underground auditoriums. 

Each auditorium held two thousand women.  The small stage remained dark like the women's shrouded faces.  For thirty minutes woman after woman, girl after girl arrived.  Each woman or girl composed herself.  She contemplated her place in Quoardian Society and how the 110-year war impacted their lives. Every language from old Earth blended into a whispering opera.  Buoyant jasmine scent filled the air.  Some women and girls meditated.  Other's prayed to the Goddess of their belief.  Daughters under eighteen to age eight read the message on the huge white wide screen with black words in the stage background.  For some, this became the first Samhain description.  The older women explained if the younger woman didn't understand.  Low and indistinct, thousands of females old and young murmured prayers and every now and then you'd hear Uberbitch . . . Uberbitch flowing like a tranquil forest brook.  Again, the older women helped the younger participants understand.

This Samhain held special significant because the moon rest full in the sky.  Suddenly lights in the auditorium came on and the walls became transparent.  A great collective awe rose when the stage lights appeared.  Every nationality from old Earth present.  Every face covered by the deep blood-red robes. 

The blood red robes transformed the stage into a refuge island.  A woman walked onto the stage.  She bowed before the crowd first to the North, then East, South and West.  "Uberbitch . . . Uberbitch . . .Uberbitch" buzzed low and even from the audience.  The wide screen kept each section with the stage person’s front view.

"Ladies of Quoardian Society" and she raised her hands and arms welcoming them, "I welcome you to the 6656 Samhain!" 
The crowd erupted in applause.
"You saw her watching.  This night is uber special."  She paused to let the crowd finish saying, "Uber Special."
"This Samhain night, the doors to the Great Goddess--under whatever name you choose to call her--are wide wide open," she said nodding.  "Tonight no matter where you stand with the Uberbitch, within her rules, outside her rules, ignorant of her rules . . . she welcomes you without qualms.  For you exist, so you are loved."
"For I exist, so I am loved."
"Yes.  That's all you need know.  The Uberbitch loves you simply . . . simply because you exist."
"Simple because I exist." The crowd repeated.
"So this night, asks her for whatever you want.  She has set aside all matters this night.  She is listening to you.  This is the true Samhain meaning.  Old Earth fell away from this meaning and in the last days, Samhain because a custom day for dressing up and going to parties and giving children candy."
"That is not Samhain," shouted a woman midway in the crowd in the fourth auditorium. 
The robed woman on stage nodded. "Yes.  That is not Samhain."  You tonight demonstrate the proper Samhain celebration.  So, don't call me the Uberbitch.  I am not as tricky as the Great Goddess who has cast down nations of every sort when they old earth no longer.
The crowd went wild and applauded.
The hooded woman on staged continued walking and talking.  "And she will do so again on Tinion."
Again, the crowd exploded. 
"That Black Hole is not our destruction.  It is a sign.  We'd better get our shit together--"
The crowd bursts with laughter.
"We better solve our problems or Tinion cease to exists."
The crowd snickered and grew quieter.
"After tonight, Ladies, listen to the Goddess of your heart.  We do not all have the same destiny path at the same time.  We all have individual lessons to learn.  We grow at our own pace," she said walking near the edge.  From this vantage point, a few lucky women and girls glimpsed her face deep within the hood's hallow. 
TelGara gasped.
The robed stage lady walked back to the center and faced west.  "This is why no organized religion exist in Quoardian Society.  Each one’s maximum spiritual growth in the way the Uberbitch designed rest in your own hands.  I know I am doing my part.  You make sure, you are doing yours."
The crowd applauded with enthusiasm for they knew what came next.

A line of red robed women and girls stood off to the side.   The first one approached the staged woman.  She knelt on one knee.  She kept her head downward.  Two women brought a huge golden chalice filled with the bluest clear water.  The robed woman speaker raised her hand so the long sleeve robe dropped her arm and hand clear to submerge in water. 

"Water!" said the red robed woman on stage. "She held her wet left hand."
"Water cleanses the way!" responded the crowd.
"Force Propagation began ten years into the Eternal War.  You know why it began?"
The crowd remained silent.
"Because women and girls pay the heaviest price during war.  Women and girls get raped.  Women and girls carry the burdens of war for 9 more months than men!"
The crowd shouted their indignant approval of her words.
"Yes.  I know, Ladies.  Our foremothers decided to end the shame of war on females.  We declared Force Propagation and it means any child by a Quoardian female is a loved child and any mother from such atrocious union or a loving union is a loved person."  She still held her wet hand while the girl kneeled, head tilted downward.  We'd rather women decide their husband or boyfriends before anything happens--husbands preferred."
The crowd chuckled and giggled.
"We want the men to support this side affects of war.  To understand, war is no boys adventure game."
"No!" shouted, one tearful-eyed woman.
"War hurts.  War destroys and doesn't always rebuild," the robed stage woman continues.  "War cost us all.  No more abandoning women and girls because tragedies of war burden them with memories they don’t want and didn’t asks for.  No more war period! We want an end to this war.  Force Propagation, yes looks ugly on paper, but it moves men to rethink the playfulness of war and the war career.  We . . . are in a position to bring the peace.  Not because men want it.  But because we, you, I the Quoardian women want peace."
The crowd stood and applauded for five minutes.
"Yes, Ladies.  But before peace comes.  Let us welcome those among us who have not been so fortunate."
Sporadic whimpers darted in the crowd.
"Raise you head, daughter.  Do not be ashamed."  The girl raised her head and she gasped, for from her position she saw the robed woman’s face. 
The robe woman expressed no emotion, but she smiled quietly in the hood.  She wet her hand again.  "May you be in sync with water, air, earth, fire and" she reached the top of the star design, "the spirit.  Be whole my daughter.  Seek the answers within your soul.  The Great Goddess is listening tonight, but always she resides in your soul.  Do not neglect her no matter the circumstances you encounter."
The young girl cried a little, but she had a smile on her face.  She felt a burden lifted from her soul.  She because more than just the lonely individual floating about Quoardian Society.  "Yes, I will."  She got up and left and another woman took her place.

This continued for twenty minutes while the crowd remained solemn.  A feeling of tranquil peace filled the seated thousands, as the phrasing repeated mingled with the soft sound of the robed woman’s hand dipping into water.

The last woman received her blessing and departed as two robed women took away the huge chalice when a woman shouted. 
"This is all bullcrap.  You've all been brainwashed.  Women never stopped at war.  This is a mirage!  I want to know who's behind that robe on stage."
Several women at first stared and then all at once jumped on her and begin to beat her.  The woman cowered pulling the robe over her face to prevent scratches to it, from the clawing angry women.
The red robed security guards rush into the area and brought calm; while thousands watch shocked on wide screen.
The staged robe woman received a hand signal to reveal the heckler's face.  "No!  Do not reveal her face.  Not yet.  You don't believe me or Samhains before tonight.  Okay.  Disagreeing is tolerated, but before I let you speak anymore.  I'd like you to meet someone.  She once kneeled before me."
The crowd started murmuring with awe, "Sister Lyrical . . .  Sister Lyrical."
A slight woman about five- feet four-inches danced onto the stage in her red robe.  She turned in circles waving her arms happy singing a few lyrics to a strange song over and over again.  "For all I know is the world is mine . . . Tomorrow belongs, tomorrow belongs to me."
The audience began a rapid applause.  Sister Lyrical paid no attention.  She half danced in her own little world.
The disrupting woman stood steadfast, held by the guards.  But the heckler also felt pleased she had not been disrobed. 
"Come here, Sister Lyrical."  Sister Lyrical did her half pirouette and flatfooted circling to the robed stage lady.  “Last year, Heckler, we rescued Sister Lyrical in a raid deep in Galan territory.  We don't know her previous life because all her parents and relatives died.  Sister Lyrical became a whore in Galan society for Galan soldiers.  So I'm sure you sympathize with her."
"What's that got to do with me.  Lots of women and girls, too, become whores during war.  Just look at old Earth’s French history."
The stage red robe leader said in a calm voice, "Yes.  You're not saying they wanted to be whores."
"No . . ." the heckler paused.  "I won't say that."
"Well, you see, Heckler, Sister Lyrical when we rescued her lay strapped to a bed, spread eagle," and the red robe stage speaker stopped and lightly patted Sister Lyrical's head.  "You get the picture Heckler.  We rescued her and all she remembers is this . . . damn song."  The red robe speaker walked towards the point on stage directly by the aisle where the Heckler stood.  The red robed lady shook her head negative.  "But we discovered Sister Lyrical acquired an amazing talent during her trauma."  The staged red robe lady walked back to the twirling Sister Lyrical.  "Once she sees a face, she becomes this human photographic computer.  She can go back into time and see,” the red robed leader caressed Sister Lyrical's face under her hood.  "Sister Lyrical watches every single face a person has ever talked to.  We don't know how far back she can go.  What we do know is she views back to a Galan's face, fifty Galan faces back or more.  Isn't that amazing what the war has brought us?"
The Heckler remained defiant.
"Let's see what Sister Lyrical has to say about you, Heckler?" the robe lady on stage said.
The audiences murmured, "Sister Lyrical . . . Sister Lyrical."
One guard came on stage and got Sister Lyrical.  "It's all right Sister Lyrical.  I just want you to see somebody."
Sister Lyrical nodded, but she kept waving her arms and singing, “For all I now is the world is mine . . . Tomorrow belongs, Tomorrow belongs to me." 
The guards position Sister Lyrical right in front of the robed faced heckler.  "Sister Lyrical have a good look."
"Tomorrow bel--" Sister Lyrical face snapped out of her singing self and becamee expressive and emotive.  Her eyes cleared.  She stared, blinked, and opened her mouth in disbelief. Then she covered her mouth with a trembling hand.  She shook her head negatively again.  She stared.  "No.  Scorpions.  She's talking with Scorpion!  Scorpion!  Rolith doesn't want peace.  Scorpion!  Killer!  Killers!"
The heckler burst out laughing.  "You expect me to believe some idiot savant who was attacked knows who I talked to back fifty faces."  She scoffed I don't"
Sister Lyrical began to attack the lady and pummel her little hands against the Heckler’s chest.
"It's okay," one guard said, "We'll get to the bottom of this."  They pulled Sister Lyrical off and took her back to the stage. 
The red robe leader spoke, "I've tested Sister Lyrical on myself and several prisoners and people we know by Quo Security already to be spies.  Sister Lyrical never failed.  She's always been right.  "So Heckler your belief or disbelief in our little test is irrelevant.  We'll soon find the truth.  Take the prisoner away." 
"Come.  Come Sister Lyrical another robed woman called back stage," and Sister Lyrical left.
"I want you all to know, Sister Lyrical doesn't remember a thing about these proceedings.  She doesn't remember food, drink. We give her different foots and she tastes them every day.  She might like Garden Salad tonight, but tomorrow she will not remember Garden Salad even exist.  All she remembers is this pitiful song, her attackers sang.  But . . . we care for her and hope one day, she’ll return to her old self.  Let's take a silent moment."

After the moment, the stage lady explained the four tattoos Quoardian women are allowed to wear.  One the Shattered Rose tattoo such as Sister Lyrical has.  Signifying your abused and are a survivor.  Two, the Rose and Dagger tattoo signifying you act in military wing Order of the Golden Rose.  Three, the full barbwire tattoo, signifying you belong to the political Order of the Golden Rose, the OGR.  Four, the Flying Dove tattoo which almost everyone fifteen and older knew the meaning.  With those proceedings ended, the staged red robe lady ended the 6656 Samhain Order of the Golden Rose.

end chapter 8
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