Read Online Godless by Pete Hautman - Free Book Online Page B

that. Like ‘y’know.’ Some people say ‘y’know’ about ten times a minute. Y’know what else? A lot of people say
actually
all the time. I do it myself.”
    â€œI’ve noticed.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œ
Actually,
I’ve got better things to do than pick on how my friends talk.
So
… will you take me up next time?”
    â€œYou
actually
want to climb the water tower?”
    â€œ
So
… isn’t that what Chatenoogians do?”
    â€œNot Chate
noo
gians. Chuten
god
ians. You
actually
want to go up there?”
    â€œ
Actually
, I do.”
    At precisely midnight, the uber-ninja emerges from the darkness. He stands at the edge of the smudge of light cast by Professor Peter Schinner’s office window. Inside, Professor Schinner is hunched over his thesis. He is hard at work, a labor that will prove lethal for the young professor, for the thesis contains the ancient secrets stolen from the ninja, secrets that must never see the light of day.
    Still, the uber-ninja hesitates, fingering the razor-sharp points of a
shuriken
, for Professor Schinner is in fact his brother, captured at birth by missionaries, trained from an early age in the esoteric arts of detection by a cabal of insane Franciscan monks.
    The ninja knows that Schinner must die, but to kill him he must also destroy himself. Two brothers, both brilliant, both the best of the best, doomed to mutual self-destruction …
    I rap on the glass. Shin’s head jerks up. He squints at me through the window, looks at the clock, then motions me around to the side door.
    â€œYou planning to climb the tower in your X-men pajamas?” I ask when he opens the door.
    â€œShhh! I had to put ’em on for my mom. She always comes down to say good night. Give me a couple minutes.”
    I follow him to his room. He strips out of his pajamas. I can’t believe how skinny the guy is. You can count his ribs. He digs around in a pile of dirty clothes.
    â€œWear something dark,” I tell him.
    â€œI know, I know.”
    While he dresses, I sit at his desk and look at the sketchbook he was working on. The open page is covered with Shin’s tight, crabbed printing. Shin used to cover the pages of his sketchbooks with ornate drawings of buildings and machines, but lately he’s been writing more and drawing less.
    â€œWhat are you working on?” I ask. “Some snail notes?”
    â€œNot exactly.”
    I start reading:
    â€¦ and lo! The Ocean spake, and his words did cause Men and Women to quail and cry out in fear for themselves and their children and even for their children’s children’s children and beyond, for though the planet might spin through space for all Eternity, it was suddenly made known to all that Mankind’s grip upon this planet of fire and ice was but a momentary scrabbling across its slippery surfaces, for lo! The Ocean did speak the words of Truth and Justice and the Watery Way upon which all must eventually drown or be crushed by the pounding waves of anger and rage and fury and hatred, and lo! It was revealed upon this Holy Day of Holy Days that the evil Men do must ever be visited back upon them with vengeance and justice and bloodshed, for the blood shall flow with the Water of Life, even as Life departs.
    I look up. Shin, watching me, puts on a pair of jeans and a purple T-shirt.
    â€œWhat is this?” I ask.
    â€œGenesis,” Shin says.
    â€œGenesis?”
    â€œThe first Book of the Sacred Text,” he says. “I’m the First Keeper, right?”
    â€œYeah, but …
wow
.” I read a little more.
    And so spake the Ocean, and the seas and lakes and rivers and puddles did carry His Words. And every drop of rain and every snowflake and every bead of sweat did carry His Words. And every driblet of snot and piss and vomit did carry His Words.
    And His Words swam across the earth in a great flood of sacred knowledge, and lo!