Pavel Kravchenko: Project Antichrist

“But you broke away, leaving yourself without the possibility to replenish,” she said.

He smiled at her, then at me. “Why take such a risk? Well, you know what they say about Satan. I want your soul.” Seeing the look on my face he hastened to add, “ But of course that’s only partially true. I don’t want your soul in particular — even if I did, there’s no way to get it — but rather a soul. Like we used to have. I believe the current method of sustaining our population is bound to fail sooner or later. I believe we can be healed. I believe we can truly return.”

“So that’s your plan for me?”

“That’s my hope for you. And who knows, perhaps you could also save the world while you’re at it. Good night.”

Then he was no longer there.

I guessed the conversation was over. Wasn’t really mad about it either, to tell you the truth. I went to his desk and sat down, the monitor swiveling around to gaze at me. Iris came to stand behind the chair, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“You think it’s possible?” I asked her. She was silent for a long time.

“It’s possible,” she finally said into my ear. Then she kissed my cheek and left also.

Half of the website’s unique visitors wanted me dead immediately; half of the rest stopped by to let everyone know how stupid they were to believe such nonsense; half of the rest were ready to submit to my command and get the show on the road; half of those left had signed on to denounce me as impostor and proclaim themselves as antichrists. Which left about eight million people who admitted they had come to the website looking for answers.

All this I, of course, only guessed. Or rather, estimated, judging from those posts I had been able to peruse during the hours between Iris’s departure and a rooster’s luciferian song coming from the garden.

“It’s possible,” I told myself, as the sun’s first beams touched the books and paintings. There are people out there, many people, who want to hear, see, feel, do something different. There are people there who want the circus to stop. There are people who want to know they are not alone.

Touching the keyboard for the first time, I created a new forum topic.

In the title bar I typed: Nothing is inevitable.