The Unpretenders - Chapter 23

I didn't know very much about cars. Julian drove a black Audi, among others. It was an R8 model, according to the badge, but that didn't mean anything to me. All I knew was that it was very beautiful and probably very expensive.

I'd convinced myself that I was becoming accustomed to the finer things in life. Sitting in that car, however, waiting for Julian, I suddenly felt decidedly out of place. On one level I knew that I was being silly, because I was God, after all. And what was a car, even an expensive car, compared with God? But, nevertheless, God's legs were grubby and grass-stained, from playing outside with Baxter. God's cheap nail varnish was beginning to flake off. And God was having a bad hair day. In any case, it was just as well, I thought to myself, that I was appearing on a radio show, rather than a television show.

Julian finally emerged from around the corner and got into the car. Isobel, meanwhile, stood in the doorway, poised to wave us goodbye. "Sorry about that," said Julian, "I had to assess the damage from the vandalism."

"What was it this time?"

"Just some graffiti."

"What did it say?"

"Pervert."

"Yeah, we're both perverts now, in the eyes of society. I'm an adultophile."

Julian rolled his eyes to the sky. "Don't get me started."

"You should really invest in some better security. You can afford it, after all."

"I know, you're right. I will."

He then started the engine and pulled slowly away from the house. "Have fun, Izzy!" I shouted, leaning out of the window. And that was the precise moment, I realised afterwards; the precise moment when I felt part of a real family, for the first time in my life. United, not by blood, but by the simple knowing acceptance of ourselves as One. Together, not out of obligation, or necessity, but by choice. It was therefore a family that I knew could grow, not through birth or marriage, but through resonance.   

Once out on the open road, Julian introduced me to the awesome R8. No car I'd ever been in before had actually pressed my body into the seat. "Amazing acceleration," I said, trying to sound knowledgeable. Only, the acceleration didn't stop. "Holy crap! Slow down, Julian."

"Sorry."

"I'm not used to that kind of speed."

After reaching the town centre, in seemingly no time at all, I noticed Julian repeatedly checking his mirrors. "Looks like your fan club has arrived," he said.

"Fan club?" I queried, turning around. I then noticed what he was referring to: a masked Unpretender, perhaps even Melody herself, leaping confidently from one rooftop to another.

"There's two more over there," he said, pointing.

"Yes, I see them. And there's another one on the scaffolding."

"They've probably just come to show their support."

"But how did they know I'd be here?" I asked him.

"We're all well connected," he reminded me, "in more ways than one."

"Yes, of course."

The town was fairly congested that afternoon, and freerunning turned out to be faster than the Audi. In fact, by the time we'd arrived at the radio station, all seven of them had taken up positions on the surrounding buildings, where they stood or sat like statues, surveying the cars and pedestrians below. It actually gave me the creeps, if I'm honest, even though I knew the faces behind the masks.

Julian seemed to acknowledge them, almost telepathically, as he stepped out of the car. I knew from talking to Melody that they all revered him greatly, despite our inherent equality, and I sensed that they'd probably shown up for his sake as much as mine.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be."

After going through some formalities at the reception desk, a woman came to escort me to the studio itself. Julian wanted to come along, but I insisted that he remain in the foyer. "I have to do this alone," I said. In truth, however, I was simply trying to protect him. For I knew that he would likely get dragged into the conversation, sooner or later, and have to face all sorts of ridiculous insults and insinuations.

The studio was smaller than I'd anticipated and contained little more than a desk, a computer and some monitors. The host of the show, Gary, spoke to me briefly, during a song, and then we were live on air.

"And welcome back. That was the irrepressible Alice Cooper, with I Am Made of You. And from one hellraiser to another, now, in the form of Sophie Pearce, who would no doubt object to being called a hellraiser, under the circumstances. Even though her venomous YouTube videos have sparked virtual riots in some schools around the country. So what have you got to say for yourself, young lady?"

"Firstly, thank you for having me on your show, Gary. There haven't been any riots yet, as far as I'm aware. But I certainly wouldn't condone violence. There's no need to fight the system. We have only to stop cooperating with it."

"Is that a political message, or a spiritual one?"

"It's a message for those who recognise my voice as their own."

"I'm really not sure what you mean by that."

"Then I can't help you."

"But you can understand why people have been so disturbed by your comments, can't you? Not least the religious folks."

"Yes, of course. But the religious folks would be disturbed by their own Scriptures, if they understood them."

"I should mention, at this point, for anyone who doesn't know, that Sophie here has made some quite extraordinary claims concerning her identity. Isn't that right, Sophie?"

"Well, I know who I am. But I don't find that extraordinary."

"Come on, you know what I'm getting at."

"Yes. You're trying to elicit a cheap sound bite from me, for your audience to snigger at."

"No. I'm simply asking you to restate..."

"That I'm God? Yes, it's true. I am."

"Thank you. That's all I wanted to establish. We've had the son, apparently. And now, two thousand years later, it seems that it's the daughter's turn to have a go."

"No, I'm not the daughter of God. I'm the whole enchilada. But then, so is everybody else."

"Everybody is God?"

"Yes. Divided into apparent individuals by the software that we have running in our minds. Or, rather, the software itself is what creates the illusion of multiple minds. It's all just thoughts, you see. And then the illusory person clings to his or her mind as if it's their real identity, however much suffering it causes them. Remember, Jesus said 'let not my will be done, but yours'. Why did he say that? Because God's will is the only true will. All other actions and motivations stem from programming. Jesus knew that. I know that! Human beings don't have free will. They have conditioned reactions. 'Forgive them Father for they know not what they do'. I'm not saying anything new here."

"Well, you seem to be saying that if we ditched everything that makes us unique, then we'd all be One. Is that right?"

"No, human beings don't need to be made unique. They are already unique; unique expressions of the One. Or at least they would be, in the absence of mental programming. You see, truly unique individuals aren't in conflict, either with each other or with God's will for them. An artist isn't in conflict with a musician. Somebody who loves apples isn't in conflict with somebody who loves oranges. Our physical forms aren't in conflict. Our collective needs aren't in conflict. Conflict only arises from conditioning, and our identification with it. And we can negate the effects of that conditioning simply by remembering who we ultimately are."

"And so that's your basic message, is it? That's what you're preaching?"

"I'm not preaching anything, Gary. However, if I've managed to light any torches this afternoon, then I would encourage those people to contact me. Because together our torches have the power to set this whole world ablaze. Together they have the power to dispel the darkness, once and for all. Together they have the power to light the way home, for everyone."

"Indeed. Well, it's been an interesting conversation, I have to admit, but that's all that we have time for, I'm afraid. Thank you so much for coming on, Sophie. And now, at the top of the hour, it's time for the news."