Nemesis - 13. Chapter 13: Gangs of Chicago Part 3: Nomos

Gangs of Chicago:
Part 3: Nomos

Gary

Even though he had rested at Erewhon before popping Viktor and Kenny home, Nemesis was exhausted. I fed him, and then we cuddled briefly before he fell asleep. He slept in until nearly noon the next day. I was about to wake him when he came into the kitchen.

“That gang needs a visit, I think,” Nemesis said.

“You’re not to go alone,” I said. As Nemesis had cast off more of his adult memories, I had become more comfortable setting rules and boundaries for him. He seemed more comfortable accepting them, too. I knew I could not stop him from doing his job, any more than he could stop me from doing mine. Our partnership was working: I provided refuge; he provided justice and retribution.

Elsewhere, our partnership was a failure, and it was my fault. I could not bring myself to talk to him again about physical sex, nor about the reason I could not do that with him. I was afraid I was going to lose him if this could not be resolved, soon, but I didn’t know how to do that.

Nemesis brought me back to the moment.

“How do you think the gang would react to a visit by some US Marshalls?” Nemesis giggled. He had gotten over his initial fear of the green-scaled Scions of Hermes after having cowed them with his sword. He had also discovered, or Dike had told him, that he had the ability? authority? I wasn’t quite sure … to call upon them, himself. That, however, he was not yet comfortable doing. Furthermore, they, unlike Nemesis, had to operate within the law.

“Not their charter, I don’t think,” I said. “Maybe a federal gun law violation, but still … ” Then I remembered the number Dike had given me.

“Where does that gang hang out? And do you know if they’re there, now?”

Nemesis’ eyes unfocused. I’d seen Dike do the same thing.

“Yeah, they’re in an apartment … the rec room of an apartment building.” He recited an address on Lakeshore Drive. “That’s their crash pad.

His use of an old-fashioned phrase seemed to have been pulled from his adult memories. I saw pain and worry flash across his face before they faded into the smooth and innocent face of my little boy.

I pulled out my cell phone and pushed the right buttons.

“Captain Marlburg? This is Gary Walters. Do you have a few minutes?

“Yes, sir, I’m … ”

I dropped the phone when a figure in a London bobby’s uniform, complete with domed helmet, appeared in my living room. I also said a word I normally don’t use in the presence of children—or Nemesis.

The policeman saw my surprise, and picked up my cell phone.

“I say. You seem a bit off there, old boy,” he said, and then handed me the cell phone. “Dike said she had vetted me.”

“She gave me the phone number of a Chicago police captain,” I said. “She didn’t say you were … um, who are you, anyway?”

“Nomos, at your service,” he said.

“Nomos, god of … ?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Not a god, thankfully. Their lot is much too difficult. Officially, I’m the Spirit of Law. That was an aspect of Zeus. Dike got him to give that up in 1888 when she recruited me from the London police force.

“I was chasing a mass murderer, then. Thought that was really something exciting until I came to Chicago.”

He morphed, and became a youngish man wearing a dress shirt and tie, and slacks. A gold police badge hung on his belt. “Better?”

“Yes, thanks. Um, do you know Nemesis?” I asked.

The little god and the adult “spirit not a god” shook hands. I looked for any I’m a god, you’re just a spirit posturing on Nemesis’ part, but didn’t see it. I was rather happy about that—and then wondered what the difference was, anyway.

I think Nemesis used that physical contact to fill in the captain on the gang, the same way Dike had told Nemesis things. I was right: the captain nodded.

“I can have a squad there in 30 minutes,” he said. “Nemesis, I’ll be using human police officers. If you don’t mind, would you wait here until the raid is over?”

“Apollo said the attack on Viktor and Kenny wasn’t supposed to happen,” Nemesis said. “I need to know about that.”

Nomos assured Nemesis that he could be part of the investigation, and then disappeared.

I served Nemesis his lunch.

“Apollo said the boys shouldn’t have been attacked?” I asked after Nemesis had inhaled half the food on his plate and paused to breathe.

“Actually,” Nemesis answered. “He said it wasn’t Kenny’s time and this shouldn’t have happened. That’s why Apollo healed Kenny and Viktor. I don’t know if he meant the attack, or that Kenny got hurt so bad.

“Or, maybe, that I was late … ”

His face flushed; his mouth dropped open; his eyes widened. I knew he was trying to blame himself.

“Nemesis!” I said. “Snap out of it! It wasn’t your fault! You’re Retribution; you aren’t supposed to rescue every kid in trouble, nor can you.”

We had talked about this, before; he had said that he understood. He knew he couldn’t intervene before bad things happened—that was not his job and therefore not within his powers. He knew that, but it still hurt him to know that people, usually kids, had to suffer before he could step in. He understood that sometimes bad things had to happen so that good things could happen. Still, it hurt him. He pushed his chair from the table and stumbled into my arms. I lifted him onto my lap. And got an erection. Damn!

Nemesis giggled, and I knew he’d felt my erection and heard my exclamation. Then, he said some things that made me even more uncomfortable.

“Apollo first appeared in the alley as a cute little boy. My age. His tunic was as short as my chiton. He has a really cute butt. Then, he morphed into a hunky teenager. Naked. Then, he morphed into an old man—gray hair and all. He wasn’t naked.

“I don’t remember being turned on by teenagers. When I was a child, it was always men that turned me on. When I got older, it was always children. I don’t remember when that changed. But I wasn’t turned on by Apollo … even when he was a little boy.”

Nemesis looked at me. I nodded, and tried to keep my thoughts as neutral as possible. I was sweating, and Nemesis knew it. Still, by my love for him, I had to let him talk, even about this.

“I asked Apollo why I didn’t feel sex thoughts about him, and he said it was because I loved you so much that I can’t be … he said actualized but I think he meant get a stiffy … except by you.”

Nemesis sat quietly. I knew I had to answer, somehow.

“Nemesis, I know that you can feel when you sit in my lap and I get an erection. You can feel me … uh, poking you when we cuddle at night. Do you … ” I couldn’t finish the question. No matter how much I loved him, I couldn’t ask that question.

“Do I get a stiffy?” he asked. “You really don’t know, do you? You wouldn’t know … how could you? You won’t touch me there. You won’t even look there. You’re always behind me when we snuggle in bed. Or I’m sitting in your lap. My penis is only three inches, hard, so you can’t see it under my chiton or my pants—even if you would look.

“Yes. I get a stiffy every time I think about you. I get a hard-on anytime you touch me. I get an erection when you walk in the room. I get a woody when you walk out of the room. I get a boner when somebody says your name. I get a full-on chubby when we snuggle or cuddle. I’m so hard now, I’m afraid my dick is going to explode!”

And then, he started crying.

I thought … I thought about what he had said. I thought about how we had said we loved one another. I thought about our talk about physical love. And, I started crying, too. I cried because I could not give Nemesis what I knew he wanted. Every time I thought about it, the image of my 12-year-old neighbor drove everything else from my mind… I could not. I just could not …

Nemesis

I saw what Gary was thinking. He tried to block it, but it was too strong. I tried to block it, but it was too late. I saw the image that frightened him so much. I saw why Gary wouldn’t have sex with me. He had raped a child.

Gary had been 15; his neighbor, 12. The little boy had been eager to play doctor and get naked. He’d been eager to rub Gary’s dick and for Gary to rub his. And, he’d agreed to let Gary fuck him. But it had hurt. He hadn’t told Gary to stop, but he had cried out in pain. By that point, Gary could not control himself. He’d pushed his glans into the little boy’s rectum. The boy’s anus snapped over the corona. Gary came before he could push any farther into the boy.

It was easier to withdraw his semi-soft penis than it had been to push it in. The little boy put on his clothes and left, without having said a word.

Gary threw up in the toilet. Then, he prayed. He promised god that he would confess to the little boy’s parents, that he would apologize to the little boy, and that he would enter a monastery as soon as he was old enough. He swore to be celibate for the rest of his life.

That night, the little boy and his parents were killed on their way home from supper. Gary was not able to fulfill his promise to confess and apologize. He convinced himself that god had killed the little boy to punish Gary, to keep him from confession, absolution, and forgiveness. The little boy couldn’t forgive Gary; and Gary would not forgive himself.

Gary had confessed to a priest. At least he’d had sense enough to go to another parish where he wasn’t known. And he’d been lucky to find a priest who understood, but who didn’t try to take advantage of him. The priest had tried to absolve Gary, but that wasn’t enough. Gary could not confess to the one he had harmed; that was no longer possible. He thanked the priest, but left the confessional, unhealed.

I knew Gary’s deepest secret. It was one I didn’t want to know. It was one I wanted not to know. And I couldn’t say anything to him about it.

We were both crying, now. We would probably still be crying if Gary’s cell hadn’t rung.

Gary

The ringing of my cell stopped my crying jag. It was Nomos. He asked if I would bring Nemesis to police headquarters. Officially, the visit would be to identify a couple of the boys arrested in the raid. Unofficially, it would give Nemesis a chance to read them and try to find out what had gone wrong, and why Apollo said the attack shouldn’t have happened.

Nemesis

Gary and I sat with Captain Marlberg in a dark room. Leroy and the boy who had held the gun were lined up on the other side of one-way glass with several other kids I didn’t know. I told the Captain which ones had been in the alley.

“Do they know anything about what happened? Why it happened?” the policeman asked.

“I don’t know!” I said. “I don’t know what to look for.” I tried to bring back my adult memories and education, hoping for some understanding, but nothing happened. “I’m just a kid!”

Gary put his arm around me and squeezed. “It’s okay, Nemesis. Apollo didn’t tell you the reason … and he’s obviously an elder god. Either he didn’t know or he didn’t think you needed to know.”

“Leroy and … what’s his name? Alan?” I said. “Their parents … they’re all rich! So are all the gang’s parents. But these kids … they want to be in a gang. I don’t understand.”

“Come on, Nemesis,” Gary told me. “Let’s give this a rest, okay?”

I knew that was good advice, but I wasn’t satisfied. “No, I want to ask Dike.”

Dike

I was pleased that Nemesis was curious and that he had tried to find the answer for himself before coming to me. He didn’t know it, but he was growing up, again. Well, his mind was growing up. He’d always have the Aspect of a 12-year-old in a chiton and sword except temporarily when he morphed. He was learning critical thinking skills and a lot more from Garreth, who was a much better teacher-through-example than anyone Nemesis had ever had in a classroom.

Garreth and Nemesis sat across from my desk. I knew what Nemesis’ questions were.

“Yes,” I said. “Apollo told me about the anomaly, since it was in my city.

“There’s a new preacher in the mega-church in Leroy's neighborhood. He works on adults on Sundays and Wednesday evenings and on their kids the rest of the time. He’s connected to a Mexican drug cartel, and has a dozen or so older teens selling cocaine—powder and crack.

“As a minister who claims to be Christian he’s accustomed to operating outside the law, so running a drug distribution operation is not difficult.

“Leroy and his gang want in on that. The older, more established hoodlums don’t respect Leroy’s people. Leroy figured a killing would give him the street cred he needed.”

“Why do they want to be in a gang?” Nemesis asked. “Why do they dress like hoodlums?”

“Like jail inmates,” Garreth answered. “In those below-the-knees and well below-the-waist pants that inner-city youth have made a staple of the culture? I can answer that, if Dike doesn’t mind?”

I nodded to Garreth. I saw his answer before he gave it. Actually, it was better than the one I was thinking of. Oddly enough, that pleased me. I must be getting soft in my old age.

“I used to wonder why the middle-class, educated kids seemed to copy the poor, uneducated, inner-city kids,” Garreth said. “Then, one day, I saw a kid wearing a T-shirt with the words, If you don’t believe in something, you’ll fall for anything.

“I realized that was a large part of the problem. These kids don’t have any core beliefs, so they are pulled in the direction of anything they think is cool, in the direction of the latest fad. And, as soon as something else becomes cool, they’re pulled in another direction.

“I think that explains why Leroy and Alan and the others want to be in a gang, too. Their parents have provided them with material things, but with no core beliefs, with no core culture. They’re smart enough to know that what the preacher says on Sunday isn’t true, but they’re not smart enough—or educated enough—to figure out what is true. They’re reaching out to whatever they can find to give them a sense of belonging.”

Garreth looked at me. I chuckled to myself at his need for approval. Garreth loved Nemesis so much, and was so afraid I would find him lacking and that he would loose Nemesis. If he is going to lose Nemesis, I thought, it will not be because of me.

I nodded. “Even before humans became sentient, and for most of the five hundred thousand years or so that they have been thinking creatures, humans have been members of close-knit groups, of tribes.

“The tribal life—the true tribal life—offers things including security, belonging, beliefs, values, cooperation—that modern, so-called civilization doesn’t. These boys are not only regressing to humanity’s childhood, but also forging the leading edge of what civilization must become if it is to survive.

“Not criminal … but tribal.”

Gary

I was intrigued by what Dike had said. I think she knew that. She reached into the bookshelf behind her desk and removed a book.

“Here,” she said. “Start with this one. It’s a good summary of his philosophy. When you’ve finished it, I’ll lend you the others and you can begin at the beginning.”

The book was Beyond Civilization, by Danlal Quinn

DISCLAIMERS and NOTES: If you read only one book this year, consider making it Daniel Quinn’s Beyond Civilization or, perhaps, one of his earlier books including the one that started it all, Ishmael.

If you read a second book this year, please consider Sean Faircloth’s “Attack of the Theocrats: How the Religious Right Harms Us All and What We Can Do About It,” which provides an expose of the unconstitutional exemptions from law that are enjoyed by (Christian) religious organizations in the USA. It has an excellent bibliography, although my Kindle copy is not footnoted well enough for my taste. This book also may help prepare you for a future chapter or two of this story.

When humans became sentient is a matter of definition and interpretation. It has been suggested that since the great apes display one aspect of sentience (self-awareness), then humans have probably been sentient (self-aware) for 12 million years or more. The brain size of pre-Homo sapiens species grew to near-modern sizes some 600,000—500,000 years ago. These species were probably self-aware. H. sapiens probably evolved from H. erectus about 120,000 years ago, and was almost certainly sentient. Some of the earliest evidences of religion (a belief in something that lived on after the death of the body) may be things found in Mousterian burial sites c. 80,000 BCE. The elder gods probably came into existence well before 1,200 BCE, since they were “mature” (that is, had replaced earlier agricultural and animistic gods and had developed distinct personalities) at the time of the Trojan War, usually dated to 1,190 BCE or so. Dike points out that Yahweh was a younger god; it’s likely he came into existence no earlier than the earliest version of the Old Testament (c. 600 BCE) at which time he became distinct from other, primitive gods.