Prometheus Wakens - 19. Chapter 19: Tezca

Chapter 19: Tezca

Tezca’s eyes moved from the wire brush to the can of Dura Lavado^® cleanser to the jug of bleach. He looked briefly into the mirror, and then turned away in disgust. He didn’t need the mirror to see the puss-filled pimples that covered his face, or the craters and scars where similar pustules had been. The memories were burned into his mind.

Doctors had prescribed steroids, hormones, and medicines even more exotic. None had worked; some had caused frightening side effects. Now, Tezca’s mother wanted to take him to a homeopathic doctor.

Tezca may have been scarred both physically and mentally. He may have been teased and bullied in school. However, he was smart. Without the distraction of friends, he was free to spend time reading and pursuing his own interests. And those included the most important words of Peter Abelard: question and doubt, for that leads to the truth. Tezca knew that homeopathy was pseudoscience and that the only thing a homeopath could do would be to take money from Tezca’s parents. Not that they would miss it, he thought. And it wouldn’t do any more good than praying about it has.

Tezca picked up the metal brush and lifted it toward his face. Maybe—

“It wouldn’t work, and it would hurt like hell,” a boy’s voice said.

Tezca turned toward the image in the mirror. His eyes widened.

“Quién es usted?” he asked the boy. “Cómo has llegado . . .” Tezca realized he had been addressed in English. “Who are you, and how did you get here?”

The boy laughed. “I’m Jonathan,” he said. “I’m also known as Eleos.” Sensing Tezca’s confusion, he added, “It’s complicated, and I’m still getting accustomed to it, myself. What is your name?”

“Tezca,” the boy answered. “And you are Eleos?” Tezca asked. He still held the metal-bristled brush, and raised it as if he would use it as a weapon.

The boy laughed, again. “Yes, do you know him?”

Tezca thought for a moment, and lowered the brush. “No idea.” He raised the brush once more.

The boy named Jonathan laughed again. “Eleos is the Spirit of Compassion, a member of the Greek pantheon. According to Lucas.”

“Lucas?”

“He’s got the powers of Prometheus, the titan—”

“The titan who gave fire to humanity,” Tezca interrupted. “That’s superstition. So is Eleos, or whoever you’re supposed to be.”

“If you say so,” Jonathan said. “But ask yourself this: How did I get in here? You locked your bathroom door, like you always do, even though you weren’t going to jack off.”

Tezca blushed, which exaggerated the mottling of his face. “How did you . . . ?”

Jonathan ignored that question. “The titans have moved on to different realities,” he said. “Many of the gods have, also. The ones that are left are trying to make things right. That includes some of the elder gods, and what are called younger gods who have inherited the powers of the older gods and the titans.

“We work to straighten out things that include why a boy as beautiful as you would be inflicted with such a curse. It just doesn’t make sense. If the god who was supposed to have created this particular reality were a benevolent god, why would you be punished? There’s no logical reason.”

“Castigado? Maldito? Cursed?” Tezca’s voice was a whisper.

“I use words that I thought might be familiar to you,” Jonathan said. “Perhaps that’s the wrong word. Inflicted might be better.”

Tezca thought for a few moments, and then said, “No, cursed is right according to the Reverendo . . . the Reverend. I’m cursed because I’ve sinned.”

Tezca’s eyes widened, and he changed the subject as fast as a Chicago taxi driver changes lanes. “And how did you get here? Why are you here? What is going on?”

Jonathan smiled, and touched Tezca’s shoulder.

Tezca

I blinked. We weren’t in my bathroom, and I wasn’t holding the wire-bristled brush. The boy who said his name was Jonathan and I stood in the middle of a grove of trees. Jonathan handed me a pair of pruning shears.

“Come on,” he said. “The olive trees need to be pruned before they flower, and we have only another day or two.” He took my hand, and led me to the first tree in a long row.

“Here,” he said. “You see this branch? Do you see how it’s growing away from the tree? Cut it, here . . .” He used his pruning shears and demonstrated. I nodded, uncertain of what was happening, but fearful of doing anything that would challenge the apparent reality.

We walked down the row of trees, pruning as Jonathan demonstrated. In other rows, I saw boys performing the same task. I realized only then that I was dressed as they were—in a tunic that came to just below my bottom. Now and then, one stretched to reach a particularly high branch, and I saw his buttocks—or his penis. It was only then I realized that I’d probably exposed myself to the others, too.

The sun was near the horizon when we reached the end of the row. I got my first look at the boys, up close. They were beautiful!

The boys waved at Jonathan, and walked toward the east. Jonathan took my hand, and led me toward the west, toward the setting sun.

We reached a building: marble that might have been white looked like a purple-gray in the glow of the sunset. The building was square, low, unadorned, and seemed to be part of the land around it. The door was open.

* * * * *

Jonathan took Tezca’s hand, and led the puzzled boy into the building, through a short hallway, and into a bathroom.

“Tezca, you’re probably a little confused,” Jonathan said. “But you’ve not said anything.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Tezca said, “I’ve decided that you are an angel. Nothing else could be true; nothing else is important.”

Jonathan nodded. “Not unreasonable, but not correct, either. Here. Look.” He picked up a mirror and held it out to Tezca.

Tezca jerked away, and turned his head.

“Won’t do you any good,” Jonathan said. The walls of the room were suddenly all mirrors. No matter which way Tezca looked, he saw himself. But he saw no pimples. He saw no craters. He saw only smooth skin in a face whose beauty had been hidden until this moment.

He touched his hand to his cheek. And gasped. The mirrors didn’t lie.

“What?”

The boy who said his name was Jonathan grinned. “The Greek gods, remember? As soon as we got here, Apollo—he’s the healer dude?—knew it, and fixed it. Your facial condition was a result of both normal hormones and some bacteria in your family’s well. Pimples are normal, but yours were exacerbated—”

Jonathan saw the look on Tezca’s face and laughed. “Exacerbated. It means made worse, and has nothing to do with masturbated—jacking off.” Tezca blushed. Jonathan grinned. Tezca blushed even more.

Lucas

Jonathan brought Tezca to supper, and to meet me. Supper might have been considered unusual except that in all the time I’d been here, I’d never figured out what “usual” was. It was a casserole of ground meat and tomatoes topped with cornbread and highly seasoned, served with tortillas and honey. There was a pitcher of cold milk on the table, as well as one of water. I was puzzled until I realized that these were things Tezca might find familiar. The boys were trying to help make him feel welcome.

Jonathan

After supper, I took Tezca back to my home on the edge of the grove where the Ginkgoes lived.

“Tezca? I have a guest bedroom, but I don’t think either of us wants to sleep alone.”

Tezca looked at the bed and then at me. “No,” he whispered. “Please. Not alone.”

I took Tezca into the bathroom, and showed him the shower, towels, toothbrush (there always seemed to be a guest toothbrush), and supplies. I handed him a pair of pajama pants, and left him alone. After he came into the bedroom, I went to shower, and came back clothed as he was, in light sleeping pants. Tezca was already in bed, about as close to one side as he could get. I got into the other side and turned off the lights.

I lay, awake but silent, on one side of the bed. Tezca lay, awake but silent, on the other.

I rolled on my left side so that I faced Tezca. “Tezca?” I whispered.

“Yes?”

“Tezca, do you know the story of Aladdin, who found a magic lamp that held a genie who granted Aladdin three wishes?”

“Uh, huh. It was told at the iglesia—the church—to teach us that genies were superstition and wishes are evil, and that we must work hard for everything we get.”

I was so shocked, I couldn’t say anything.

“I used to wish I was Aladdin,” Tezca whispered. “Even though I knew that was an evil wish.”

I took that opening. “What if you were Aladdin, and you had only two wishes? What would be your first one?”

Tezca was quick to answer. “My first wish was granted earlier—that my face wouldn’t look so . . . so gross—disgusting.”

“What would be your second wish? Think carefully, please, and tell me the truth.”

Tezca thought for a few moments. “I know I’m going to hell, already, and even though you’re an angel I will tell you the truth. My second wish is to find a boyfriend.”

I heard a sob. “There,” he said, choking out the words. “I’ve said it. Now you can take me to hell.”

I grabbed him, and hugged him tightly. “Tezca, I’m not an angel, and you’re not going to hell,” I said.

Something changed in the way he was crying. I looked at his mind, and figured out that he believed me, and that he was crying happy tears.

“Jonathan,” he sobbed. “You must be an angel, for only an angel could be so good.”

Tezca had experienced sex with two boys: one his age, the other a few years older than he. Both had been members of his church. Both had been more experienced than he. Both had limited the events to fellatio. It was a starting place.

I brought up the lights just enough that we could see one another, and started foreplay by kissing Tezca. He gasped, and pulled my tongue into his mouth. Hmmm, I thought. One of those boys was a good teacher.

It was easier to make the pajamas vanish than it would have been to unwrap our legs and pulled the pants down over erections that stretched the cloth. At first Tezca didn’t notice, I don’t think, because he was, at that moment, trying to suck my tonsils from the back of my throat. It was a wasted effort: I knew that I didn’t have tonsils.

When Tezca realized we were naked, he released the suction on my mouth and bent his head to take my penis between his lips. I let him; I could see it was what he wanted, and that I’d have the same opportunity later in the evening.

A really good teacher, I thought. Tezca was inexperienced, but knew what he was doing. It was a little fast, but still quite satisfactory when he brought me to climax. After our breathing had returned to normal, I took Tezca’s penis deep into my mouth. I brought him slowly to orgasm, and was rewarded with gasps, whimpers, and a bounty of sweetness when he came.

The next morning I woke to find Tezca propped on his elbow, looking at me. “This really isn’t hell. Or heaven. And you’re really not an angel.”

“No, Tezca. This isn’t hell. It’s not heaven, either. It’s the Island of Thermai, off the coast of Greece, and due east of Mount Olympus. We’ll go back to Lucas’ home for breakfast, and you will be able to see Olympus from his patio. And the hell you learned about doesn’t exist except in the minds of those who want to believe in it. And I am not an angel, but the spirit of Compassion. And you, you are a boy who has been cursed twice, but who has had those curses lifted.”

Tezca raised his hand to his cheek to verify that the first curse had been removed, and then blushed, telling me that I had guessed correctly what the second curse had been.

“Come on, now. A quick shower, and then breakfast.” And a close-up of another of the dryads you were staring at, yesterday. I wonder who it will be, today.

There must be something about taking another boy’s dick in your mouth and swallowing his cum that tends to break down shyness. Tezca did not hesitate to step naked from the bed or to join me in the shower.

Ash greeted us when we reached Lucas’ patio. He was thin, but not especially tall. His hair was a Nordic blonde, not quite as white as Lucas’ hair. In contrast, Tezca’s hair was black, and his skin brown. I wondered if the two of them might enjoy one another’s company.

“Tezca, this is Fraxinus japonica, called Ash. He is not a native of this island.” There were slight epicanthic folds in his eyes. “Japanese ash,” I said. Ash nodded, and surprised Tezca by kissing him.

Tezca gasped, and then returned the kiss. I decided to put them together for the day—if Lucas agreed.

“Ash, this is Tezca. He just came here, yesterday, and doesn’t know all about us, yet.”

“Hello, Tezca. I know that you were reared in Mexico City, and that your breakfast was usually tortillas, huevos, and frijoles. I have prepared that. I hope it will be satisfactory.”

Tezca grinned, “It beats gringo food,” he said. There was a lilt in his voice that told me he was teasing, even if I hadn’t read that in his surface thoughts.

Lucas reached the patio, and both Ash and I got a kiss. Lucas looked at Tezca, but he was still a little shy. Lucas understood, and accepted a handshake.

With Lucas’ blessing, Tezca and Ash worked together in the groves that day, and explored one another in my guest room that night. Tezca was so relieved and released by what he’d learned, that he’d have worn out both himself and Ash, but Ash convinced him that there would be many, many other nights. When I learned this, I resolved to introduce Tezca to a few more of the dryads.

Jonathan

On the third day, after breakfast at my home, I told Tezca what we must do.

“Tezca, we’ve been here for nearly 72 hours. You would be missing from your home for that amount of time except that I can slip in time, and take you back to only a few minutes after we left, and before anyone noticed that you were missing.”

I saw Tezca’s fear, but also longing for his home. The fear was far greater than the longing, but I knew he would have to face it before the healing that had begun with his face could be complete.

“This is something you must do,” I said. “I will be with you. I can and will protect you. You have nothing to fear.”

He didn’t quite believe me, but agreed.

“I can’t go home dressed like this.” There was almost a giggle at the end of that sentence.

“A set of clothes is laid out for you in the bedroom,” I said. “After we brush teeth, we’ll leave.”

“You’re wearing . . . ”

I laughed, did something Whittaker had shown me, and was wearing slacks and a pullover shirt. “Is this okay?”

This time, I did get a giggle from Tezca.

* * * * *

Jonathan led Tezca through a gate and up the path to his parents’ house. The sun was already hot, and bright on the whitewashed adobe of the walls. The boy’s fear had returned. “You must speak with your parents,” Jonathan said. “You must.”

Tezca nodded, but he walked slowly, and only at Jonathan’s urging.

Tezca’s father answered the door. He was still wearing the slacks, white shirt, and tie he’d worn to church. It was only minutes after Tezca had disappeared from his bathroom several days earlier.

“I thought you were upstairs,” the man said. “Who is this? How . . . what has happened to your face?”

Tezca’s fear constricted his throat and froze his chest. He could not speak, and breathed in short gasps.

“Tezca’s skin condition was created by bacteria that live in your well water,” Jonathan said. “They were isolated from other bacteria, and evolved—”

“Evolved? We don’t believe in evolution!” Tezca’s father said.

“Evolution isn’t a matter of belief,” Jonathan said. “It is a matter of fact. However, that isn’t the issue.” Your son is the issue, Jonathan thought, but shielded that.

By now, Tezca’s mother, hearing the conversation, had come into the foyer, and was looking at Tezca and Jonathan.

Jonathan looked at the boy’s parents, and saw the image of intolerance he’s come to associate with the followers of the Universal Fundamentalist Church, wherever it had taken root: throughout the USA, in Mexico, throughout Argentina and Brazil, Russia, and in the poorer countries of Africa.

Tezca’s parents were not typical of the membership, which was usually poor and poorly educated. Of course, Jonathan thought. The father is part of the leadership. No wonder they look so prosperous. He’s probably one of the carteles, too. A quick scan confirmed that.

Another mission for another day, Jonathan thought.

“Given the bacterial causation,” Jonathan said, “his condition was easily cured by killing the bacteria. Some special knowledge was applied to quickly erase the pustules. Other special knowledge was applied in order to erase the old scars. Tezca need never worry about his pimples. However, there is something else you need to know.”

Jonathan looked at Tezca. The boy grew pale. He knew what Jonathan wanted him to say.

“Por favor, Jonathan,” Tezca pleaded. “You tell them.”

“I cannot,” Jonathan said. “I can only support you—and you know that I will.” Let’s see what compassion can do.

Tezca nodded, and turned toward his parents. “Mamacita? Papa? I’m gay. I’m homosexual, mariposo.” In the silence that followed this announcement, Tezca added, “And I know that you think I’m going to hell. I know that, but it’s not important, ’cause I am free for the first time in my life.”

Tezca’s mother covered her face with her hands and ran back into the house. The boy’s father didn’t try to conceal his feelings: disgust painted his face; the sneer said all that needed to be said.

Tezca broke into tears, and turned toward Jonathan.

Jonathan took Tezca’s hand. “Tezca? I’m sorry. I had hoped that my powers as the spirit of Compassion would have helped them understand and accept, but they hate too deeply for that.

“There is another answer, however. Will you come back with me to where you will be accepted and loved, where you can be fulfilled, where you can help others?”

Tezca looked at his father for only a moment before turning his sight to Jonathan. “Yes, please.” Whatever Jonathan was offering would be better than what he would face if he remained.

Jonathan touched Tezca’s shoulder and, to the utter consternation of the boy’s father, the two boys disappeared.

THE END OF THIS BOOK
Look for Additional Stories from this Reality
in “Thermai Vignettes,” to be published.

Disclaimers and Book End Notes

If immutable laws governed the universe,
the mythical gods of ancient Greece
would have been impotent.
—Lawrence Krauss
A Universe from Nothing

Perhaps he doesn’t really
understand Dark Energy.
—David McLeod

The quotation of Lawrence Krauss is redacted, without changing the meaning, from his book, A Universe from Nothing: Why There is Something Rather than Nothing, Kindle Edition. He may understand dark energy better than anyone except Stephen Hawking (see Hawking’s book, The Grand Design, also on Kindle, and which I found to be much more succinct than Krauss).

Style guides, including the classic by Strunk and White, say that the possessive form of “old names” and “classical names” that end in “s” should not get an “apostrophe s”: Jesus’ not Jesus’s. Okay, if he’s got that prerogative, so should Mars, Zeus, Lucas, and others of that ilk. At least, that’s my theory.

The notion of creating a universal flu vaccine by focusing on the hemagglutinin, which does not mutate, rather than the polymerases which do mutate, is real, and is currently under investigation by the National Institutes of Health. Whether that idea can be extended to HIV is still speculative.

Trademarks used herein including Lysol, MacBook Pro, Boeing 727, Zodiac, and Viagra are the property of their owners in all realities. Dura Lavado is a registered trademark only on Earth Analogue VII—as far as we know.

“ . . . Reginald Finger, an Evangelical member of the CDC’s Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices, recently announced that he would consider opposing an HIV vaccine—thereby condemning millions of men and women to die unnecessarily from AIDS each year—because such a vaccine would encourage premarital sex by making it less risky.”—Letter to a Christian Nation, Sam Harris, 2006.

If you would like better to understand the Enlightenment and its impact on history, consider reading James MacGregor Burns’ Fire and Light: How the Enlightenment Transformed Our World. It will explain why Athena was concerned with the turn taken by the French Revolution (and will likely answer questions that were never treated in USA American schools’ history courses).