The Palace of Jesus’ Son
I wasn’t getting high with Jack, the Son of the Son of God.
When Jack and I returned to Slack Heaven, I naturally assumed our first task would be to get as high as we possibly could. We had been sober for years, and I could hear the siren song of the bong calling out to me. But when we landed, our lackey Lucifer was there in the hangar to greet us with a pile of problems.
“My Dude, I did my best to keep the place going!” Lucifer said defensively. “But first I didn’t know how to communicate with the living logs, so the buildings stopped growing. And I didn’t know how to work the resurrection machine, so I couldn’t slow down new arrivals, and we got more overcrowded than ever. Then all the robots broke down, and only the caretaker bears knew how to fix them, but the caretaker bears were already overworked—some of them had two or three marks on their bellies by that point—and you know what it’s like trying to get them to breed in captivity! Anyway, the robots were the ones who fixed the replicators, so then everything was in short supply, and the shortages lead to crime—mostly just people stealing each other’s drugs, but still—and the crime made everyone move away, so the real problem is that entire neighborhoods are abandoned, all the fun stuff is shut down, everything’s falling apart, and everyone’s lonely and bored.”
“Well, fuck,” Jack said.
“Where’s my husband?” I asked.
The last I’d seen Bob, Jesus had healed his allergies and sent him home on our flying monstrance.
“He was exhausted when we got back,” Lucifer said. “He’s napping in the Palace.”
“The Palace?” Jack asked, taken aback.
“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot to mention,” Lucifer said. “Zeus built you a palace, my Dude. He said an esteemed divinity such as yourself shouldn’t be living in a glorified hotel.”
Centuries earlier, Jack had transfigured a troublesome incarnation of the Greek pantheon, resulting in several gods with an obsequious devotion to him, including a Zeus who was way into real estate development.
Jack protested, “The Slack Lodge is not a—”
He stopped himself when he looked where Lucifer was pointing.
On the highest peak of the tallest mountain at the edge of Slack Heaven stood the sleekest, most rock-and-roll palace I’d ever seen. It was a medieval castle, turrets and all, except its stone walls were iridescent, constantly shifting colors under the permanent twilight. Spotlights cut into the sky around it like you’d see at the opening of a Hollywood movie, or a particularly insane sale at a used car dealership. The main gate and every window were lined with color-changing neon lights, and stage fog surrounded it, providing the canvas for a laser light show. If the trill of an electric guitar was a building, it would have been this.
“Ok, that’s pretty cool,” Jack admitted. “Let’s check it out.”
Lucifer drove us to the Slack Palace in the Dope Mobile, a golf cart enclosed in bulletproof glass. I doubted the necessity of this precaution, until we turned out onto the trash-strewn streets. Slack Heaven had become a ghost town of dark log cabins and shuttered attractions. The only sign of life was the occasional stoner propped up against a wall, staring right through us with glazed eyes.
“How could it have gotten so bad?” Jack asked.
“You were gone for more than a decade, my Dude” Lucifer said. “A heaven needs its leader.”
I’d always thought it was funny the way time slipped by when you lived forever, but at that moment, I hated it.
“Maybe you should just drop me off in the Region of Responsibility,” Jack said.
“All operations have been centralized in the Palace,” Lucifer said. “You could spend the rest of eternity there, if you so desired.”
As we wound our way up the mountain, we passed a sign.
“SLACK PALACE, Mt. Olympus,” I read. “Hey, at least Zeus gave us top billing!”
“Authorized personnel only beyond this point,” Jack said, reading the fine print with a scowl.
We drove across the drawbridge over a moat that turned out to be the source of the fog and lasers. The portcullis was guarded by a pair of soldiers wearing cream-colored camo and golden headbands, two more obedient victims of Jack’s transfiguration power. The front gate fell shut behind us as we entered the bailey.
“I was thinking we could start our tour with the armory,” Lucifer said as we climbed out of the golf cart.
“We have an armory? Never mind,” Jack sighed. “Just take me to the resurrection controls, I’ll start there.”
“We’re not gonna get high?” I asked meekly.
“You go ahead without me,” Jack said. “I’ve gone years without it, I think I can go a little bit longer. I need to get this sorted out.”
“Oh,” I said, my disappointment evident.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Jack said. “I promise.”
Lucifer pointed Jack in the direction of Central Command, then lead me into the main keep.
The inside of the Palace was lux tacky, with enough gold leaf, marble and mirrors to make Versailles look cheap, but also a lack of dignity proportional to its lack of restraint. Uncomfortable-looking overstylized settees lined the walls between greek columns supporting ivy-covered balconies overlooking an atrium. A multi-story water fountain was clearly meant to depict Jack hitting a bong, but looked more like he was in the middle of a spit take. At least there was a diamond-studded glass elevator to get us up to our bedroom. That’s Zeus for you.
The circular room at the top of our tower was thankfully more tasteful, with dark walnut walls and oil-rubbed bronze lamp fixtures. The bed faced the door, and there was a fireplace on one side and a balcony on the other. I was relieved to see our old comfy furniture had been moved in. Bob was passed out in our three-kings-size bed, snoring away.
HONK SHOO. HONK SHOO.
“Everything from your suite in the Lodge has been moved here,” Lucifer whispered. “Don’t worry, everyone respected your privacy—we extracted your closet without ever opening it. It stayed as secure as a safe, I assure you.”
I frowned. I found it difficult to trust Lucifer on that count—I still didn’t trust Lucifer on any count—and I had some extremely sensitive items in that closet.
“There are bells like this all over the Palace,” Lucifer continued, pointing out a doorbell on the wall. “Push it whenever you need anything, and one of me will be with you promptly.”
“One of you?” I asked.
“Yes, obviously,” Lucifer said. “Jack purified a second Satan when you were in hell. There are two of me now.”
“Lovely,” I sighed. “So which one are you?”
“Excuse me, my Dude?”
“Which Lucifer are you, the old one or the new one?”
“We are both the same, my Dude. Our souls mingled, as happens whenever incarnations of the same idol meet. But if it would please you, we could fight to the death so that only one remains.”
“I’m not sure that would make it better,” I said.
I looked closer at the doorbell. It was one of those old-fashioned doorbells like Jack had at the entrance of his abandoned factory back in our Chicago days, a bronze disc with a button in the middle. Engraved into the frame were the words TRINITY USE ONLY.
“Who’s the—nope, I can guess,” I sighed. “You can go for now. I’ll ring if I need you.”
“Thank you, my Dude,” Lucifer said, bowing and leaving.
I rushed over to my closet, which was now more of a wardrobe standing freely against the wall. I was disturbed to realize they had sawed the closet out of a living building. What was once living logs was now dead wood. I prayed the logs weren’t as conscious as they sometimes seemed.
But I had more important concerns at that moment. Digging into the back of my closet, underneath a methuselan pile of dirty clothes, I found the Golden Apple of Eris. I breathed a sigh of relief. Bob had warned me not to let anyone know I had it. As far as I could tell, it was untouched, exactly where I had left it. I certainly hoped that was the case.
I found my trusty weed inhaler up on the closet shelf. I decided I should probably take things slow after all these years, so I lowered the setting to “buzzed” and took a puff.
Whoa.
The inhaler slipped from my hands as its effects hit instantaneously. I felt like I was in college again, smoking up for the first time. The world was magic. The entire room seemed like some kind of set piece, like if I tried to walk out on the balcony, I’d discover it was painted on plywood. The elaborately intertwined pattern on the carpet started to slither around, and when I took a step, it rippled like water.
HOOONK SHOOOOOO.
And my husband’s snoring was really loud.
I had to get out of there. Not just out of our quarters, but out of the entire Palace. It all certainly looked really cool in my current state, but it didn’t feel like Slack Heaven. I took the elevator down and did my best to retrace my steps out of there. I passed more transfigured guards, and they saluted. Not knowing how else to respond, I saluted back, though I looked down and tried not to make eye contact. I was certain my eyes were bloodshot, and that the guards would totally be able to tell I was high.
I made a wrong turn at some point, but I managed to find the exit eventually. It wasn’t until I was across the drawbridge and stumbling down the winding mountain road that I was able to breathe a bit easier. Slack Heaven stretched out below me. There were far fewer lights than I remembered, but what remained sparkled like the night sky. The sight of the Curtain of Light in the far distance completely blew my mind.
I got distracted by my feet as I walked. It looked like I was standing still, and the pavement below me was moving like a treadmill. That was pretty neat. I missed being high. When I looked back up, I found myself among vacant buildings.
I’d walked those streets hundreds of times before, but it might as well have been a foreign land. The rollercoaster and skyway had gone dark, the lazy river was empty, and the zoo cage gates hung open. Lights were on in a few of the cabins, but never more than one. The few dudes out and about looked like they were on way more than weed—I really didn’t want to know. They avoided me as much as I avoided them.
I eventually made my way to the Slack Lodge. It was completely abandoned. Luckily, the Curtain just outside provided enough dim light for me to walk through the Great Hall. I wound my way through empty adirondack chairs, under the dark antler chandelier, past the unused life-sized chess board, until I came to my old suite. I stood outside the door, unsure if I wanted to go in.
“Hey man, long time no see!”
“John!” I exclaimed, startled but unafraid.
The old hippie St. John was crashed out on a nearby couch.
“Yeah, man, I figured you’d be back here at some point,” he said, holding up a joint. “Wanna smoke up?”
“I’m already very high,” I said.
“Wanna get higher?”
“Definitely.”
I flopped down next to him as he lit the joint and passed it my way.
“I heard you guys were in hell,” he said. “That true?”
“Just for a little bit,” I said. “A little bit of heaven, too. But mostly we were in the woods.”
“Not out of them yet, from the look of things, man,” John said.
I chuckled.
“How long have you been waiting here?” I asked.
“Oh, who knows,” he said. “You know how it goes. Awhile, I guess.”
“Were you waiting for me?”
John shrugged.
“I get these visions sometimes,” he explained. “Not that they always come true or anything. Sometimes they do. Anyway, I saw myself here, so I figured, man, what the heck, might as well, not doing anything else. But yeah, man, you’re probably who I was waiting for. Or maybe it was just the shrooms.”
“How long ago did you take them?” I asked.
“Idunno, man, how long have I been waiting here?” he asked.
Seeing that he was sincere, I burst out laughing.
“Oh! I’m sorry, dude, I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know if I’m what you were waiting for, but I think you’re exactly what I need right now, so I’m glad you’re here.”
He grinned wide.
“Right on, man!”
We got even higher.
“You tell anyone about me, man?” he asked.
“Nobody asked,” I said. “So no.”
“Thanks.”
“What did the other apostles do that’s so bad you don’t want to see them?” I asked.
“You’ll think I’m stupid,” he said.
“No, I won’t,” I said. “I promise.”
John began his story.
“It’s like, we were a team, man. After Jeez left, we got this whole thing going, telling everyone how we’re all gonna rise from the dead, and all that. I really believed it, too. But then they all started dying. First my brother, then Peter, then Paul. All glorious martyrs. It’s not like they were doing anything I wasn’t. Don’t know why nobody ever tried to crucify me. But they got picked off one by one, and I just kept going.
“Everyone would ask me, ‘John, why ain’t they coming back?’ Like, I don’t know, man. I convinced myself they were all just waiting for the right time, then they’d all come back at once. It’d be a whole big deal, we’d all be together again and the world would be made right. People laughed at me and said I was just hallucinating, but I’d say, ‘No, just you wait and see!’
“And I waited, man. I waited way longer than I’ve been waiting here. I got so old that I stopped counting—way older than anyone should have to be—until I was the last one left. All I needed was to see just one of the guys. Even just a message would have been fine, ‘All good here in the afterlife, keeping a cloud warm for you!’ But I got nothing. And then, finally, I died.”
“So, you’re mad they left you hanging?” I asked.
It didn’t seem unreasonable, but John shook his head.
“When I got to heaven, they laughed at me. Acted like I’d doubted, like Tommy. They were like, ‘We all had to have faith, man!’ But they didn’t! Not like I had to. Not for decade after decade of silence.
“I tried to help Pete with his new church, but he was all, ‘I don’t think you’d like it!’ But I knew he just didn’t like me. And Paul said you gotta know lots of math to program the Holy Spirit. Even Jim had his own thing going—they all had their own things going. Everyone had something to do except me. I was too late. I’d been out of the game for too long, and they’d all moved on without me. Eventually I said fuck them, and I left.”
“Shit, dude,” I said.
“So, you gonna tell me I’m wrong?” John asked. “That Jeez loves them, so I should, too?”
“Nah, dude,” I said. “I think I get it. And you’re allowed to be mad at them about it. Jesus once told me he was the only one who could love everybody. I think he’s probably right about that. But did you ever tell any of them how they made you feel?”
“No, man,” he said. “Stupid, I know.”
“Not stupid,” I said. “Just human. I wouldn’t tell Peter, anyway. He’s a douchebag. Paul isn’t so bad, but I don’t think you need to go out of your way for him. It’s ok to let the past be the past.”
“Thanks, man. It’s good to have someone who understands.”
“What about Jack, though?” I asked. “You got a problem with him? Because he’s probably going to mention you eventually, and I don’t think I can keep you a secret if he does.”
John smiled and shook his head regretfully.
“Nah, man, Jack’s a great guy,” he said. “I love him, man. He’s so much like his Dad. It’s something different between us. But I don’t think that’s my story to tell. Ask him about me, see what he says, and then you can tell him I’m here, if you think he’d be cool about it.”
“That’s fair,” I said.
The sun rose suddenly—backwards, and not gently. Presumably, Jack had just turned the aetherostat from dusk to high noon.
“Aw, man!” John groaned, shielding his eyes.
“Dude!” I objected, doing likewise.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling window of the Great Hall, a towering apparition of Jack appeared.
“So, um, hey,” Jack said. “If this works the way Lucy described it, y’all should be able to see me. 4G apocalyptic display. Pretty cool, right?”
“Dude, you can hear us?” I asked, but apparently not, because he didn’t respond.
“Anyway, I know it’s been awhile,” Jack continued, “but hey, I’m back! And I want to promise you, things are going to get better around here, even better than they were when I left. But it’s going to take some time. Luckily, we’ve got some help. I’ve got angels now. Lots of them. So if you see any guys—or girls—women, I mean—any creatures, really, who are wearing golden headbands, know that they’re cool, they’re with me, and if you need anything, just let them know.
“For now, though, I’m going to need everyone to make their way to the neighborhood around the Palace. There’s a bunch of apartments over here, and everyone should claim one. Two, if you want—there’s plenty enough to go around! But...we really need to consolidate, ok? So, like...this isn’t exactly a request. We’re going to be shutting the rest of the place down, at least until we’re back up to speed. So if you’re not sure how to get to the Palace, the angels will be around to help guide you. Again, they’re the ones with the golden headbands and the, uh, camo uniforms. Peace!”
“Well, shit,” I sighed, “I’d better get back to the Palace and find out what’s up with—”
I turned to face John, but he was gone. Either the dude was Batman, or I was just really high.
I mean, I was really high.
The walk back wasn’t exactly a scene from a documentary about fascism, but it wasn’t exactly not, either. Jack’s troopers were being careful and polite as they lifted stoners up off the street and force-marched them toward the Palace. I managed to run ahead of the wave and get back to the Palace before things got too wild outside.
I side-eyed Central Command, but first I had to swing by our quarters to check on Bob.
HOOOOOONK SHOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Bob was good.
Central Command had a facade to match the rest of the Palace, but it was a bit more Soviet on the inside, all bare bulbs and cement (not even sacracement, but Zeus probably didn’t have access to the Christian tech to which I’d become accustomed.) I was getting a feel for my authority, so I ordered the guards to take me directly to Jack. I found him in a small dark office, hunched over the green glow of an early-generation computer monitor.
“Hey dude,” I said.
“Hey,” he said, continuing to type away.
“Should I start calling you Jack Castro now?” I asked, trying to be jocular about it.
“Was it that bad?” he asked in earnest, looking up at me.
“Nah,” I lied a little, plopping down on a chair next to him. “What’re you doing?”
“Working on the resurrection algorithm,” he said. “It’s a lot more flexible than I thought. You can actually do loops if you use this command called go toe.”
“I think it’s pronounced go to,” I said.
“Oh, yeah, that makes more sense.”
“I can’t believe resurrection runs on an Apple IIc,” I said.
“Resurrection is ancient technology, dude,” Jack said. “This thing’s way overpowered. But at least you don’t have to know hieroglyphics anymore.”
“Hey, listen, you got a minute to talk about something else?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said, spinning in his office chair to face me. “What’s up, dude?”
“What can you tell me about St. John? Like, the original one?”
Jack’s eyes grew wide, and the color drained from his face.
“Why are you asking about Uncle John?” Jack asked hesitantly.
“He’s here.”
I hadn’t said anything until after I asked Jack about him. Promise technically fulfilled!
“Ho-ly Grandpa, he’s here?” Jack asked. “In Slack Heaven?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I think he wants to see you. But he didn’t seem sure you’d want to see him.”
Jack started to tremble. I’d never seen him like this—not in hell, not during the recent drama in heaven, not even when facing St. Peter. He seemed legitimately scared.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He shook his head no.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” I said, taking his hand.
“You’re going to hate me,” he croaked.
“Never,” I said.
He withdrew his hand from me and turned away. Whatever he was about to say, he couldn’t face me while he said it.
“Uncle John was the last apostle,” he said, his voice cracking. “The last one left in the globe, after all the others moved on. He was the last one I lived with before striking out on my own. I took care of him in his old age. His very old age. You wouldn’t even believe. There was a rumor going around that he wouldn’t die until Dad returned to the globe, that Dad had blessed him so that he’d never die—or cursed him, I don’t know...
“He was in so much pain, all the time. He couldn’t do anything himself. The only thing that would help at all was this mushroom tea I’d make him. I carried it up to him every night. It was the only way he could sleep. And then one night I...I...”
Jack broke down crying.
“I can’t, dude...”
I put my arm on his shoulder.
“It’s ok, Jack.”
“...I made it extra strong...on purpose...”
“Shhhhh...”
He sobbed, and I consoled him. He didn’t need to say any more.
“I don’t think he blames you,” I said. “I suspect he’s grateful. He said he loves you, Jack. I don’t doubt it. Shhhh...”
It took some time, but Jack composed himself and sat back.
“I’ve never told anyone that before,” he said, wiping his eyes.
“You’ll get no judgment from me,” I said. “I think you should talk to John. I think it’d mean a lot to him to see you.”
“It’d mean a lot to me, too,” Jack agreed.
“I’m not really sure where he is,” I said, “but I last saw him in the Lodge. I’m guessing if we get really baked and stumble around, we’ll find him. That seems to be how he works.”
“You’ve met him before?” Jack asked. “How did you meet him, anyway?”
“It’s a long story, I can tell you on the way.”
“I just need a few minutes to fix this,” Jack said. “We could end up with a million assholes in here by tomorrow if I don’t get the filters back up.”
“Go ahead and get your filters back up,” I said. “I’m going to go check on Bob. Just meet me in our quarters when you’re ready.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “Thank you, dude.”
“Always,” I said.
I headed back into the keep and up the elevator. When I got to the short hallway between the elevator doors and our quarters, the silence was deafening. It was the first time I’d been there without hearing my husband snore.
Between the weed and the emotional rollercoaster I’d been on, I panicked. Intrusive thoughts suggested Bob had stopped breathing altogether. But when I burst into our room, Bob was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to me. Sharp beams of daylight cut through the slight haze of stage fog drifting in from the balcony.
“It was supposed to be a joke,” Bob said sorrowfully, without turning around.
“What was?” I asked, rushing over to him. He was hunched over, fiddling with a crumpled kleenex in his hands. He looked up at me with red puffy eyes. He’d been crying.
“Being allergic to Christian heaven,” Bob said. “Like, hey, that’s how much I don’t want to go there, I’d get hives or whatever. I didn’t think it was actually true.”
“But you don’t want to go there, do you?” I asked, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands.
“No, of course not,” Bob sniffed. “But it was always by choice. Not because I physically couldn’t. And I would’ve, y’know. For you.”
He started to cry again.
“Oh, honey,” I said, getting up to put my arm around him. “I don’t want to go to Christian heaven, either! I want to be wherever you are. That’s the only heaven for me!”
“You don’t have to lie just to make me feel better.”
“What makes you think I’m lying?”
“Because I see how you act around the other Christians,” Bob said. “The respect you showed Paul and Frank. The way you talk about Jesus. You really believe that stuff, deep in your soul. And I saw you there in that heaven—you were happy there. You’re part of that world, Leif. I’m just a side quest. Hell, Leif isn’t even your real name, it’s John.”
I couldn’t help but smile. After spending the day tiptoeing around emotional landmines, it was a relief that all I had to do here was speak openly and honestly.
“It’s not, actually,” I said.
“It isn’t?” Bob asked.
“Nope. Almost no one knows my real name, not even Jack,” I said. “So if I tell you, it stays between us, ok?”
“Obviously!” Bob said.
“My original name, the name given to me by my firstborn parents, the name the priest uttered as he poured the baptismal waters over my little baby forehead...was Jack.”
“No way!” Bob smiled.
“Yes way!” I said. “Jack started calling me John on like our second date. I think it was an honest mistake, but at the time, I was too infatuated with him to correct him.”
“I can see how that would’ve been confusing,” Bob said. “Everyone would’ve probably had to start calling you guys Ditch and Christ or something.”
“Yeah, let’s not do that,” I smiled.
“Jack Ditch,” Bob said. “Jacked Itch...it sounds like something you’d catch if they didn’t put enough chlorine in the bathhouse hot tub!”
I laughed.
“My point is, being John was actually a pretty small sliver of my life. Heck, I was Johannes Grubengräber longer than I was John. And I’ve been Leif way longer than anything else. But honestly, out of all the names I’ve had, the one I’m proudest of, by far, is Sveinjörmungandersson.”
“Oh, Leif!” Bob said, flinging his arms around me. “I love you!!!”
“I love you too!” I said.
I held his shoulders and looked him in the eyes.
“Wherever you go, I will go. Every death, every time. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Ditto,” he said, all of his sadness melting away.
Just then, Jack entered.
“Hey dude,” I said. “You ready to go see Uncle John?”
Jack frowned.
“No, we’ve got bigger fish to fry at the moment.”
“What’s wrong?” Bob asked.
“Peter’s here.”
Next: Jesus’ Son and the Apostles
Doing Drugs with Jesus’ Son is always free.