Jackson’s Boat, on the other side of the Mersey. Fellow lunchers, on days out.
Marcie, entering. A round of applause. She’s resurrected herself. On the third day, she rose …
I need carbs, Marcie says. Chips! Crisps! Bring them to me!
Marcie, eating.
Agreement: Den mom seems taller somehow. Den mom changed. She’s risen – changed. She must have been through a soul-death or whatever.
We’re ahead of you den mom! We’ve been studying the Antichrist!
Marcie, dabbing her lips. Pushing away her plate. Time for seriousness, my friends. This isn’t fooling about.
This has all gone very arthouse …
I had a vision, she says.
A vision!? So you’ve become a prophet?
I saw things, Marcie says. I was shown them. It’s nearly here. What we've been waiting for all our lives ... We never understood who the Man really is … We never understood the Man’s plan in its true dimensions …
He’s rich – of course. So rich he’s beyond the economy, which is just for peasants. Power: that’s what he wants. He was born into power, but he wants more. He wants what every tyrant has ever wanted. But we knew that, too.
The Man’s takes himself to be a messiah, Marcie says. He believes himself responsible for the future of humanity. That he’s seen the threats. That he knows what’s coming. That he and he alone can hold the horror back.
Radical measures are necessary: that’s what the Man believes, Marcie says. They alone can save us. But what the Man means by saving us is what we mean by slavery.
The Man’s plan is to destroy all order, Marcie says. To return the world to chaos. And then he’s going to stand over chaos and shape it. He’s going to usurp the very role of God …
But how? What’s he going to do?
I don’t know … that part’s unclear …, Marcie says. Terror attacks, on major cities, ports, transport hubs – all coordinated. Powerplant explosions. So-called natural disasters. Earthquakes. Tsunamis. Happening all at once – blam, blam, blam
False flags to rev up the old war machines. Proxy wars. Race riots. Food shortages. And cyber-attacks. They’ll switch the whole internet off. All comms will go down, all financial services, all cash machines. We’ll be desperate. We’ll be starving in the dark.
So that we’ll go to the Man, screaming for help, Marcie says. So we’ll cry out from the chaos: save us, save us. And then the Man will step in to quote unquote save us.
I saw the Man standing over the chaos, shaping it. I saw the man trying to usurp the very role of God. I saw the Man as Antichrist. I saw his false transcendence, shattering in, breaking in.
It’s ancient evil – the oldest kind, Marcie says. It’s power – total control. A new world order. One world governance. A one world bank.
So where’s the resistance?
The Man expects no resistance from the likes of us, Marcie says. That’s why they’ve made us so passive – so stupid. So inured to powerlessness. That’s why we’ve been processed, generation after generation … Total takeover: this is the endgame. The Man’s moving all the pieces into place.
And that’s what you saw in your vision?, I ask.
That’s what I saw, Marcie says.
Everything’s so colossally, inexplicably fucked, I say. Everything, in every sphere of life …
Doom, in Jackson’s Boat. So what is there to be done?
Done?, Marcie says. We can’t do anything ...
We need divine help. We need an anti-cataclysm to save us. We need something greater than the Man’s system. The Man’s disaster.
We need our own disaster. Our own reboot. We need divine violence, whatever that is. We need a violence of destruction that is really a violence of creation …