Excerpt from "Moloch Rising"
False Gods
The scene: Jenny Hollingsworth, having survived an attempt on her life with only stitches and broken ribs has returned home to find a burglar in her house. Apparently a circus midget acrobat magician burglar. Officer Shane has come by the house to get a statement, and the burglar escapes out a small bathroom window, Shane gave chase, but…
Officer Shane came back in muttering softly to himself. To Jenny he said, “He must’ve gone left when I went right.”
“If you will hold on, I will make some coffee. But first, I need to get something from my gun safe.” Shane studied her – she seemed completely at ease, which he found odd and a little scary. He nodded, said, “I’m going to call this in, don’t touch anything,” and turned to talk into the radio mic mounted on his shoulder.
Jenny bent down, grimacing from her broken rib, and opened her safe and pulled out her Sig and a belly band. Lifting her T-shirt, she pulled the velcro loose on the compression band supporting her ribs and replaced it with the belly band. She put a magazine in her Sig, holstered it in the band, pulled a spare magazine from the safe, tucked it into the belly band, and dropped her T-shirt. It was not invisible to anyone that knew what they were looking for, but it was unobtrusive. Shane came in as she finished. Reaching back into her safe she pulled out a folding knife which she stashed in the front pocket of her jeans. Walking to her closet, she chose an over-sized button shirt and slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned. The belly band was all but invisible now.
“Well, OK then,” said Shane with raised eyebrows. “I’m assuming those are all legal and registered.” Jenny said, “Come on, I need coffee.” Shane pursed his lips and followed her out of the bedroom.
In the kitchen Jenny started making coffee in an automatic drip machine. “Hunh,” grunted Shane. “I figured you for one of those pod coffee rigs.” Jenny snorted. “A), pod coffee tastes like crap, B), it’s overly expensive for the supposed convenience, and C), if you need to make more than one cup at a time, they are decidedly not more convenient.” She paused and looked at Shane, “And, I never make one cup at a time.” Turning to Shane and leaning against the counter she said, “Why do we prize convenience over everything, including enjoyment?”
Shane studied her a minute. “What do you mean?”
“How do you take your coffee?”, she replied.
“Got any Coffee-mate?”
“Yep.” She pulled two generous mugs out of the cupboard, an over-sized canister of Coffee-mate, and in response to Shane’s raised eyebrows said, “Costco.”
“So, what did you mean a minute ago?”
Jenny paused, “Oh, convenience – look, coffee’s almost done, I guarantee faster than two pod coffees. Did you ever see that movie where people are replaced by pod-people?” She motioned Shane over to the back door, opened it, and stepped onto her patio. There were two chairs and an end table, she dropped into one, grunted, and sighed through a grimace, “How do I keep forgetting about my ribs?” Shane just stood there looking at her.
“Sit down, Officer Shane. Take a moment. Enjoy my ritual, my inconvenient, satisfying, deeply satisfying ritual.”
“Some guy was in your house. He broke out your window and escaped. Someone tried to kill you less than a week ago. You have stitches and at least one broken rib. Does this sort of thing happen to you all the time?”
“Ritual,” she replied. “We are creatures of ritual. Some big and grandiose, some as simple as enjoying a cup of coffee. When is the last time you enjoyed a cup of coffee?” Shane stood there with a blank yet slightly flustered expression. “Rituals literally make the world go round.” She looked and motioned, “Officer, please sit.”
“Back up will be along shortly, I’m not gonna be found relaxing in your backyard over a cup of coffee.”
Jenny looked at him, a strangely sad expression on her face. “Sit. Please.”
Shane gave a sigh and sat. They sat there quietly for a moment, and he sipped his coffee. “Whoah! This is really good.”
“Yep, you simply can’t get that from a pod.”
Shane took another sip, letting it linger before swallowing.
“Pod people aren’t real,” Jenny continued. “They are facsimiles intended to fool real people. Ditto for pod coffee.”
Shane waited.
“Coffee is an occasion for socializing – building relationships. Or for reflecting, slowly, deliberately, deeply. Making the coffee is part of it. The smell, the sound. Pod coffee implies that you are in a hurry. That having coffee should be a perfunctory utilitarian task.” She paused, “After all, you’ve got more important things to do, right?” She gave an ironic chuckle. Looking at Shane, she asked, “You ever socialize over one of those pod machines?” When he didn’t answer, she said, “Yeah. Pod coffee is for rushing, pretending. Did you know there is this animal, called a civet? They like to eat the coffee cherries. People follow them around collecting the seeds after they have been, ahh, roasted, so to speak. Apparently, it’s worth the wait.” She sat and sipped thoughtfully, “So, why have we sacrificed enjoyment on the altar of convenience?” Staring into the distance, she mused, “What puny gods we worship.”
