The Holy Anointing of God

Ever since The Holy Anointing of God, Trell’s life had simply unraveled on him. He wished he could pin it to a certain event or decision, but most of his past was hard to remember.

Trell sat on the edge of a rooftop, legs dangling over the gutter. His posture was hunched, eyes staring straight ahead as he kept watch over his alleyway. His territory.

The only thing that was crystal clear in his memory was her. Four years. For four years she had kept him sane, giving him something to steady himself with as society slowly crumbled and rebuilt itself in the aftermath of God's Anointing.

Eventually, she left as well. He thought she understood, but it turned out that she had just been pretending for years.

Fake.

The whole world was fake.

And so he'd collapsed in on himself, giving up. What could he do? He'd burn them all if he could, starting with her, but he was powerless.

So he sat, watching, toying with his one possession.

His lighter, the last piece of himself. It danced for him.

In and out, over and under. It wove through his fingers, snapping left and right. The top snapped up, and fire burst forth, enveloping his hand. But it didn’t burn him. It had before, but he'd learned how to avoid it. Lighter still weaving and dancing in his hand, Trell snapped the case closed, and the darkness rushed in again.

Still, his hand whirled, his fingers a blur. He kept this up for a while before he identified a dull ache in his jaw. He'd had it clenched this entire time, teeth bared. He took a deep breath, forcing his jaw closed again.

He snatched the lighter out of the air, sighed, and fell back on the roof with outstretched arms.

God’s Anointing. People praised it. Called it the saving grave of humanity. They used it as proof to justify God's existence. They thought that it was a sign that humanity needed to change, that society needed to be reorganized.

What was the sign?

Trell closed his eyes. It was all he saw.

Numbers.

Neon blue numbers.

Almost five years ago, with no evident signs or warnings, numbers had appeared above everyone's head.

Each number was unique, and as far as they could figure out, determined the value of a person.

They had determined some of the factors that went into a person's number. Age, wealth, and physical attractiveness seemed to make up 35% of a person's value.

But that's all they knew. The more wealth you had made you more valuable, but physical attractiveness and age were much harder to pinpoint. Most scientists had given up trying to find out the most valuable age. They agreed it was between 15 and 30 but couldn't narrow it down any more than that. And physical attractiveness most scientists hadn't even bothered with. Trell didn't see the point either. If someone was attractive, you could tell. That's what made them attractive.

But there was something else, or multiple other things, that were important. Trell remembered the news stories about it before the Hierarchical Revolution had reorganized society two years ago.

They had called it the Twin Phenomena. Any news station you went to would talk about it. It was the source of endless curiosity and debate, and what prompted so many people to try and find out how someone's value was determined.

What was so concerning was how common it was. Thousands of examples could be pointed out.

The Twin Phenomena. Where twins, similar in age, attractiveness, and wealth, were given hugely different numbers. In the most famous cases, the twins could be separated by billions.

Trell had considered God's Anointing as a blessing at first. People began to act better, eat healthier, and exercise more. The rush you felt when you saw your number rising made people motivated to keep working. But for someone to move up, someone must move down.

Trell now cursed the day God's Anointing began. He could see people lose themselves in the journey to join the next ranking. Be part of the first Billion. Hundred Million. Ten Million. Some even made it to the Millions.

Trell seethed. What part of his life had been a blessing? Where had he been anointed?

Where had he been treated justly?

With a quick motion, the lighter burst to life again. He looked directly into the fire. It stung his eyes, but the pain was worth it. The less he could see; the better.

Snap.

The world grew dark again. Everything stilled.

He wrapped his arms around his legs, curing himself up, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. The imprint of the fire kept the numbers away.

Trell had been comfortable in his last year at school. Just like a warm bed, he didn’t want to think about having to leave. He just wanted to enjoy the moment he was in. He'd figure it out.

He’d hang out with his friend often. They were probably as typical as you could get, teenagers who were just discovering the first parts of the adult world; driving, drinking, and social insecurities. The world seemed exciting. School was almost over, and real life was about to begin.

God’s anointing had changed that all.

The first three months were a novelty. The world got caught up in the hype, people trying everything to boost their number however they could. They worked more. Went to the gym more. Took better care of their appearance.

Before his eyes, everyone seemed to grow up. They took life more seriously.

To Trell, they seemed to stop living. They were alive, they breathed, thought, and talked like they had before, but they weren't the same. They existed. They didn't live.

Trell began to hate the numbers.

Slowly, his number fell. Sometimes he caved to the pressure and tried to reverse this. He worked out, ate healthily, and groomed.

But even that changed nothing. It was like he'd reached his limit, and could do nothing but fall.

His friends left him, and he spent increasingly more time alone.

Society began to reform under this new system.

Trell had just wanted a normal life. An average job, good friends.

They'd taken that all away from him. It wasn't the fault of the numbers. They were just numbers. Harmless.

It was the world that was infected. They were responsible for assigning meaning. They were responsible for choosing to value the numbers.

He'd hated the world. He receded into obscurity, a single man against a reformation. He knew he couldn't change anything.

Those were his darkest days.

But then he'd met her.

Her.

NO! Trell’s eyes shot open, right hand moving practiced speed, flicking the lighter open and shooting up a flame. He burned his sight, burning his memory of her.

Not her.

Never her.

~

He sat motionless for a while, calming himself down while his eyes adjusted back to the gloom.

God's Anointing. The Hierarchical revolution. Everything had changed in five years.

Trell possessed only one thing that had stayed constant. He looked down at his hand. His lighter. He'd found it a couple of days before God's Anointing, simply lying on the ground. He couldn't explain it, but he'd gotten the sence that it was his.

It wasn’t an ordinary lighter. Sleek and metallic, black in color, it was a bit longer and wider than a normal lighter, rectangular with all the edges rounded off. The top formed the lid, operating on hinges that opened 90 degrees. Inside, six little wires poked out or an elevated circle in the middle. The inside of the circle was hollow, leading down into the workings of the lighter. There was a small button on the front side of the lighter that, when pressed, sent a current through the wires, creating small electric lines between them. They writhed and jumped, struggling for freedom. It created a shrill whine like it was being primed.

On the opposite side was a similar-looking button that ignited the lighter. If the current was active when the button was pressed, the flame would shoot out, bright and powerful, easily ten or fifteen centimeters long. The center of the flame was bright blue and gradually got warmer at the edges.

If the current wasn’t active, the fire was small and yellow, like that of a normal lighter.

What was strange about the lighter was that it never seemed to run out of fuel. He’d had it on full power for hours at a time. He’d submerged it in water - accidentally - at least twice, and had used it for almost five years straight, and it had never run dry. It hadn’t scratched once and looked brand new still.

If he thought about it too deeply, trying to understand how abnormal his lighter was, he found his mind slipping, his concern disappearing like dry sand through someone’s hands. He also found that strange but had decided years ago that he didn't care too much about it. He was just glad he had it.

He'd have gone insane long ago without it. He needed the distraction.

Something other than her.

Footsteps. He instantly perked up, raising his head to hear better.

The sound of hard boots gave them away as the policing force.

The question was what they were doing. Were they looking for people with a certain number to ship them off? Just patrolling?

Trell didn't want to find out.

He tried to get to his feet but had been sitting on the ledge for so long his legs had gone numb. He scrambled, panicking slightly as he tried to crawl away.

Hiding was useless. With a bright blue number above everyone's head, you had to run or stand and fight.

He glanced back at the same time a man and woman entered the alley, dressed in peacekeeping gear. Guns at their side and light plate armor over their body. Peacekeeping.

This should've scared him. They were here to locate people below a certain number to drag away, sending them to holding cells 'more appropriate to their value.'

Trell had no doubt they were slums or labor camps. The glorious Hierarchical revolution.

But something else made him freeze. It was immediately apparent to him. After living with it for so long, seeing it every time he closed his eyes, he couldn't help it.

They had no numbers.

They were gone. Just as quickly as they'd appeared, they were gone. The police - miraculously - didn't even look his way. But he was sure about what he'd seen. Trell was stunned. How? Why? Why now? What had changed?

His mind screamed.

He collapsed in pain, doubling over. Vaguely he felt himself fall off the roof and into the alley.

It was like someone had driven a splinter into his brain, stabbing pain so intense he couldn't even scream. It felt like someone was tearing his mind apart.

He gripped his lighter, concentrating at much as he could. He couldn't black out. Had to remain conscious. Had to fight. Had to --

RIIIIIIPPP.

His body curled backward, and he howled in pain. Spots appeared in his already blurry vision.

He tried for his lighter but couldn't force his hand to move.

Darkness invaded his mind, and he felt no more.

~

Trell awoke with a groan. He rolled over, looking up into the sky. He could see that it was growing lighter. Dawn.

How long had it been?

Knees shaking, he pushed himself to his feet. His head ached. He leaned on the wall as the world around him came back into focus, and his memory returned.

Closing his eyes for a second, he tried to remember. That pain...

The numbers.

His eyes shot open. He wasn't seeing any numbers. 

He rushed over to his little corner and picked up the piece of glass he'd stashed there long ago. He'd taken it as a weapon but needed it now.

He was unkempt, to say the least. His hair was knotted, streaks of mud over his face. His beard was fuzzy and unkempt.

But he had no number.

God's Anointing had ended.

Sorry to break the story! In this next part, I planned to weave into what I've just written but I didn't set aside enough time! It's a little excerpt and is supposed to be the plot twist of the chapter/start of the novel. Enjoy! :D ~No.1

He flicked his lighter up, first sending the electric charge surging through the air. A dull wine was created, like something being primed.

Next, he pressed the actual flame button. Like so many times before, the fire shot out, bright and hungry, but no different from any other time.

But he felt something else. Taking a deep breath to concentrate, he reached deep inside him and unlocked something.

The fountain of fire that blasted forth caught him off guard. From his right arm shot a stream of blue fire, roaring down the alleyway and consuming everything in its path.

The second he snapped the lighter closed, the fire disappeared.

He stood there for a second.

First, he looked at the alleyway. The floor and sides were streaked black with ash, and flakes of it fell in front of him, pickup up by the force of the blast.

Then he looked at the lighter in his hand. It looked no different from what it had hours ago.

Finally, he looked back at his face. His eyes narrowed. Unkempt beard, knotted hair. Dirty streaked face.

It was time to change.

For the first time in months, his face changed expression.

His face broke into a maniacal grin, and his lips moved without conscious thought.

“2 Kings 10: 25. If I am a man of God, then let fire come down from heaven, and consume thee.”

He stretched his arms wide, breathing in deeply, and pointed. Fire erupted from his hand, screaming down the alley. It didn't stop till he made a fist.

He laughed. Slowly at first, and bolder and louder as his mind but the pieces together.

Then he spoke again, not even consciously forming the words.

“Genesis 19: 24. Then the Lord rained brimstone and fire on Sodom and Gomorrah, bringing judgment for their sins.”

He flicked open his lighter again, this time only activating the current. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the current.

He picked a point at the end of the alley and snapped his fingers.

Lightning.

It exploded out of his palm, coursing through the air till it hit the brick wall on the left of the alley. The force of the bolt blew a meter-wide hole in the wall as it threw Trell backward, his feet lifting off the ground.

He hit the end of the alley and slid to the ground, but felt none of the impact. The adrenaline that coursed through him thrummed in his blood. He looked up, teeth bared in a grin.

He didn’t know entirely what had happened. What he managed to piece together was this: the age of God’s Anointing was over. Trell had been tested. It had all been a test.

God had judged him worthy. He needed to cleanse the world and the sinners in it.

Trell got to his feet. It was time to hunt her down.

The era of Divine Judgement had begun.

~No.1