SCI-FI: THE JESUS OF THE YEAR 3699

Hi Friends,
We all know Jesus was born in some far-off year, back in time. But have you ever thought of just how it would be if Jesus was not just born now, but in the future. I mean, what would the world be then and what would we need saving from? What would a future Mary and Joseph and Angel Gabriel and even God be like? Well, I didn't just think about this, I wove my thoughts into a story. And not just any story, but a science fiction. The 'future' in this story is the year 3699, and at the point when I penned down the story, the world is way different from what we know it to be now. The names and settings have been changed, but trust me, you wouldn't miss a thing about the coming Messiah who is to save not just planet Earth but the entire universe.

And oh, did I mention that popular technological guru, Jeff Bezos, is a character in this story? He couldn't have just featured in Star Wars alone, right?

Do enjoy.

...YEAR 3699

Painter: Kristyn Brown
No doubt about it, many people think Maryam is a lucky girl, a frail weasel that just happened to stumble on a lucky charm. But Maryam doesn't feel lucky at all. She never has. Not with everything roiling on in her sorry case of a life. Yes, being the appointed one to birth some special kid destined to put an end to the tyrannical reign of the Marhajer, it’s quite a big deal. But then, there is quite nothing to it. It’s almost like teleporting a Yaounda from earth to Mars via Silicon gel. Only this time, there is no liquid semi-solid radioactive gel streaming down anybody's skin and there definitely is no need to clench teeth and tighten fists and suck in slippery saliva. She still feels Assad Khousaum should work on that. One couldn't possibly walk into that thing without getting the jittery feeling that comes with remembering the death wave that hit earth in 2094.

Maryam knows all about astroengineering because she had always to be a astro-mechanic, working side by side with the big boss himself, Assad Khousaum. However, it takes her only one look at the Elixium to know that she doesn't want to stay stuck in those metallic, lifeless walls. True enough, the salary for working at the Elixium is tempting enough- getting a monthly dose of the alchemic lead elixir, getting the chance to live forever. Really, Assad and his patron, the Bezos family scored in on that end. But it would be out of place to live one's entire long life a eunuch or nun to the service of the Yaoundas.

And yea well, there is also the fact that to even be within those walls, one had to pass the insurmountable Ozone tests which mean having to find a fertile scrap of land to plant a tree. She would have to go all the way to Venus, which is as good as extinct, to make this happen. And if there is anything she hated more than seeing Jeff Bezos’ old picture hung on the roof of the cloud, then that should be travelling.

She is a homecoming girl who loves her small Baliol base in Neptune. Neptune may not be anyone’s favourite choice of habitation. But it has lots of love and less of steel, and for that, she loves it way too much to be else. This is not to talk of the fact that it held within its tinfoil walls, her most cherished memories of her parents.

They had both met in Neptune. Her father who migrated from Uranus due to the infiltrating penetration of the Marhajer’s destructive drones had met her mother, a homemade Neptuner, baking scones for a living. And almost, they had connected on all levels. The whole Neptunic connection almost wrecked her relationship with Jamal, who was a mixed breed, Jaugar and Yaounda. But then, he loves her too much to let her play with what they have.

And when she comes to think of it, what are all Assad’s massive projects for, anyway? To save a few white Yaoundas who are still stuck in the Nyle trenches on earth? It didn't make sense to save these people because they were the ones that placed us all in the situation we all are. They awoke the Marhajer with all their silly attempts to rein the energy of the sun into curing, what did they call it? AIDS? Cancer? And now, the Marhajer’s stench hovers all of space. Were it not for Assad who developed his innovative Reverse solar osmosis idea just in time to save the universe, we would all be several feet below earth boiling away in the hot, fiery Nyle trenches. Assad also built the first Silicon teleport and led a team to build many more.

And with these eely machines, they have transported many people to other planets which have been made conducive enough for living by Bezos’ Blue Origin Research centre.

However, not many Yaounda were lucky; their wintry climate had caused the molten magma in the Nyle trenches to freeze quickly, trapping them in their fancy houses. Assad, who secretly has the gravest respect for these Yaoundas have promised to get them out at all cost. But it is not good enough that he gets them out, he must also look for a way to rebuild earth; make it all fancy again.

Jeez, we may now hold the key to knowledge and life itself, but we are still what we are. We are still Blacks and Africans; we are still very much like our primitive arse-licking ancestors who can’t breathe without curling up to the anuses of the world powers. It doesn’t matter that we now call ourselves the Jaugars, The Only, while we call them Yaoundas, the Insignificant Other, we are still the ones being stepped all over like sod in the mire, if there is anything like that.

This was why Xoala had promised the world a Messiah, someone to correct the balance of justice, rebuild everything that had been destroyed by Marhajer and then get down to dealing with the old son-of-a-bastard. And out of the multitude of ladies in the entire universe, Xoala chose her. Maryam Mara.

But though, this is worth some excitement, Maryam couldn't well up happiness from her heart. It is bad enough that she had to explain to her parents that her swelling stomach is not something Jamal fed her, what was even worse is talking to Jamal about it. She can’t bear the thought of losing him, whether or not she is on a divine assignment.

Well, she doesn't have to lose him, after all. In fact, apart from the tint of regret he feels about not being the first one to break in through the hymen (he had made a bet with her about being able to resist her till the moon is rebuilt), he loves her even more. And this is not because she had to swallow her sentiments and get on the Silicon teleport to talk to him at work in the Colosseum rebuilding site on earth, but because Narsine had kept her word, she had gone to talk to Jamal firsthand.

When Narsine first appeared to Maryam during her routine yoga session on the cloud, she had been skeptical about the veritability of her words. This was because Narsina didn't look anything like the angel that should tell her,
“Greetings to you, beloved of Xoala. Behold, I bring to you good tidings.”

Far from it. Narsine looked way too polished, too bronze, too porcelain, way too thin to be an angel. In fact, in her clipped white wings, denim jacket, frizzy hair and satin pants, Narsine almost looked like some rock star who had tried too many times to be accepted into a band without success. But still, the she-he possessed the airs and vocals of an angel. In her thin, echoing voice, Narsine had told Maryam about how favoured she was to be the Chosen One and how she should name her coming Messainic son Immanuel.

Their second meeting was faster and less drudgy. Narsine had hurriedly tweaked her eye colour to a fiery magenta giving way to a solar radar that beamed . With this, she firmly fixed her eyes on the posterior angle of Maryam’s neck and released torches of red, blue liquid that seeped into her epidermal nerves like gusts of solar minerals. With the speed of light at which Narsine shot the radar at her, Maryam could only hope that the promised Messiah was not born deformed.

From the look of things, Narsine had thoroughly wished that the Messiah was a female, a beautiful blonde Yaounda who would make the world smile again. Narsine was a hard-lined feminist, but she didn't like to think of herself that way. This must be because she was a sex-less being, caught between the throes of having a golden, sultry body that could pass for a female’s but having no breasts to complete the fine artistry.

Any which way, Maryam didn’t care for Narsine’s mood neither did she worry about the baby taking shape in her. She only cared about Xoala’s promise to bring Jamal home to her in Baliol, Neptune and give them the good life that they had only dreamed of. She can’t wait for the next nine months when a baby will step out of her stomach, by way of the biometric ultra caesarian section. Or better still, she will just help herself to the Freud’s Pentatonix laser to simply slip the baby out of her paraplexitic subconscious and save her the stress of ever being in the cold, loveless suspended labour vessel. Whichever way, she can't wait to get this baby out of her body so that she can be whole for Jamal again.

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