Four Horsemen

                                                                   
                                                   

                                                          FOUR HORSEMEN

     A wicked smile crept across the face of his host. “When the Lamb of God opens the first seal, a voice like thunder cries, ‘Come and see!’ and there, smeared in arrogance springs forth Power on a horse of pride.”

     He snapped the suitcase open and closed six times. There was a flash and a form, half boiling smoke, half burning color poured out of the suitcase and in an instant configured into a raging savage in what looked like a saddle. It suspended itself in front of Charlie snarling and hissing as it held a toilet plunger over its head.

     Mr. Angelopoulos waved a hand. “Power, control, pride, arrogance, this sewer has poured out of the brain stem since we walked on all fours. It horrifies God and amuses the devil.

     Charlie threw himself back into his chair in shock. “What the hell is that? Some sort of hologram?”

     A cackle escaped from his host’s lips “When the Lamb of God opens the second seal, a voice like thunder cries, ‘Come and see!’ and there, cloaked in pomposity springs forth Corruption on a horse of lucre. Even more asinine than power is pomposity, a brainless gesture even the lowest creatures have rid themselves of.

     Another monster leaped from the suitcase and flew at Charlie. “These things look so real!”, he gasped. “I can smell them!”

     “When the Lamb of God opens the third seal, a voice like thunder cries, ‘Come and see!’ and there, dripping in blood springs forth War on a horse of fire. The powerful who have forever fatally lacerated man’s potential have forever offered us the fire of war to cauterize the wound, and we have forever followed blindly into the conflagration.”

     A third figure erupted, cross-eyed like a crazed samurai. The figures bounced around the room panting and gasping and waving their plungers. The air rushed as they flew past. Lampshades swayed. Curtains flapped. Glasses rattled.

     “For God’s sake! I’m impressed! I get the point! Put these God damn things back in the suitcase!”

     A rumble emanated from the suitcase. It began to vibrate then shake. “When the Lamb of God opens the fourth seal, a voice like thunder cries, 'Come and see!' and there, stinking of rot springs forth Death on a horse of damnation to crush the promise of man!”

     A hideous monstrosity, half insect, half skeleton exploded into the room. The other hallucinations cowered as it surged toward Charlie. His fingers clawed at the arms of the chair, He pushed himself into the upholstery with all his strength. Mr. Angelopoulos' voice boomed in his ears.

“The four horsemen are emperors with no clothes.

The four horsemen are filth for all to see.

The four horsemen rise from the depths of humanity to crush the living, 

feed on the dying,

and exhume the dead.

Power is the plague humanity visits upon itself,

Corruption is its manifestation,

War is its result,

Death is its outcome.

The night sky dancing with stars is the hope humanity offers.

There is nothing that lives or has ever lived that is lower than that hope debased!

That which was once the pride of God now unleashes his fury.

The sound of clattering hooves echoes in the distance.

It grows louder."

     Charlie’s eyes darted around the room in a panic. His host snapped the suitcase closed and open six times. The nightmares froze in mid motion then one by one flew back into its maw. Mr. Angelopoulos buckled the lock.

     “Holy Shit! What the fuck was that?”

     “That is to show that you are safe with me.”

     Charlie drained his drink. “That was one hell of a show. Are you a magician?”

     “That’s one way of putting it.”

     “Well, if you have any more tricks up your sleeve, could you hold off for a while? That was really some performance especially with the biblical hoopla. Did you develop that thing yourself? How did you get a hologram to stink like that? Did you install a set of fans to blow everything around? No need for a virtual helmet with that kind of song and dance. And why not? Good for you. I hate those helmets. You might as well put a hood over your head and there's plenty of that going around these days. Are you still in beta? There's quite a market for that sort of sophistication. The elites can’t get enough of it.”

     Mr. Angelopoulis smiled shyly. “Sorry. I just get carried away sometimes especially when -”

     A sudden series of explosions hit the car. Fire flashed in the windows. Charlie threw himself on the floor. His host shot to his feet. “God damned punks!”

     “Get down!” Charlie yelled. “You’ll be shot!”

     “They’re rocking the car!”, he spat as he stomped toward the rear. He yanked open the door and burst out on to the platform. The tracks stretching out behind him were lit with the orange yellow glow of the setting sun. Another round of explosions pounded the car as flashes of light sparked around him. He threw his arms in the air. “Is this what you do with your rage?” he roared. “Enough!”

     All went quiet but for the frantic staccato of the train on the rails. The hulking silhouette swaying on the platform slowly lowered his arms and turned. “How about some dinner?”

     Charlie pulled himself to his feet. "What exactly just happened?"

     Samuel was behind him. "Someone threw rocks at the car, sir."

     "That was rocks hitting the car? It sounded like gunfire! And what was all that flashing?"

     Samuel smiled and picked up Charlie’s empty glass. "When a railroad car is traveling at ninety five miles an hour, a rock hitting it explodes. Can I get you another drink?"

     Charlie turned back to Mr. Angelopouolos.  "What if one hit a window?"

     "Bring us two more please, Samuel and we'll be dining soon. The windows are bullet proof."

     Samuel smiled. "As you wish, sir."

     Charlie was impressed. "Bullet proof windows? You come prepared. But who would want to throw rocks at a train?"

     Mr Angelopoulos lowered himself into his chair and rested a hand on his suitcase. "Kids, punks, homeless, anarchists, Fascists, Homeland Warriors, there's a lot to draw from these days."

     Charlie laughed nervously and sat down. The car swaying on the tracks calmed him. "That must have put quite a few expensive dents in the car and you act as though it's a common experience. Hell, why don't you just pull out an assault rifle and give them a spray?"

     "I don't need ordnance."

     Charlie sighed and looked down at the suitcase. "I believe you. There wasn't another rock after you ordered them to stop, as if they could have heard you. Very impressive and there's always whatever the hell is in that suitcase."

     Samuel returned with their cocktails. "Mr. Angelopoulos is partial to seafood. Will petrale almondine do for you, sir?"

     "Thank you, thank you, yes of course." Charlie raised his glass. "Here's to my host."

     Mr. Angelopoulos raised his. "To my guest."

     They sat enjoying their drinks in silence. Charlie stared out the window at the last of the light glowing on the horizon. Halfway through the second scotch, he was feeling much better. "I do have one question."

     "The first of many, I'm sure."

     "What's with the plungers? Clearing the clogged shit pot that humanity has become?"

     "That works."

     "But it's incongruous. I mean there are these terrifying monsters flying around scaring the shit

out of everyone and they're holding toilet plungers. It's almost comical."

     Mr. Angelopoulos finished his drink, pushed himself to his feet and picked up the suitcase. "I didn't see you laughing. Shall we have dinner?"

     Charlie followed him down the corridor into a beautiful dining room and a table set with crystal and silver. A pair of candelabras finished the mood. A passing train flew past the windows, its whistle screeching in a rising pitch as it filled the room with pulsing light and a rumbling roar. They took a seat.

       Mr. Angelopoulos picked up his napkin and unfolded it. "If you're thinking I'm in the business of home entertainment or video games, you are mistaken. Besides, with the constant cyber-attacks and service failures there’s not much sustainable any more except reality filtration. Even surveillance is a joke these days as I'm sure you are well aware of.”

     Charlie picked up his napkin and placed it on his lap. "And there's the depression."

    "Yes. And there's the depression."

     Samuel entered with a bottle of wine. He opened it and offered Mr. Angelopoulos a taste. "That will do, Samuel. Thank you." He turned to Charlie. "Would you ever had believed it, Mr. - Herman, if someone told you we would be using land lines again?"

     "It would have been a stretch but I could never imagine I'd see the return of phone booths, albeit restricted and for elites and technocrats only. For me it's been a blessing. The Security State has been compromised. It's why I finally decided -" Charlie stopped and waited for Samuel to leave the room. He lowered his voice. "It's why I finally decided I might actually get away with making a run for it."

     "Nevertheless, I hope you didn't bring your phone with you."

     "Of course not."

     “How did you get through rail security?”

     “I said my phone had been stolen on the bus.”

     “The bus!”, laughed Mr. Angelopoulos. “How very clever of you. I’m impressed. Well then, here’s to life on the run.”

     Charlie raised his glass. "To life on the run."

     Dinner proceeded. Charlie professed his appreciation of the caviar which he had never in his life tasted. His host nodded but seemed to retreat into himself as they worked their way through a spring salad, fish broth with egg drops, and some sort of frozen coffee. Was this what they called sherbet, Charlie wondered. The main course was petrale almondine. He had never seen so much food in one place, let alone eaten it. It was all he could do to keep himself from wolfing it down.

     When Samuel had cleared the table, he placed the sixth course in front of them. “Mr. Angelopoulos is particular to chocolate mousse.”

     His host finally seemed to come back to this world. He cracked a faint smile. “My taste is outdated.”

      Charlie was relieved. “I have heard of petrale almondine. I have never had fresh fish. I have never tasted any of this. I can hardly believe this is really happening. Thank you. I thought I’d lost you for a moment. I hope you weren’t dreaming of Armageddon.”

     A pained expression appeared on his face. He lowered his fork and looked out the window. “Such a horrible depression, so many people suffering, such ugliness thrown at you, thrown at the angry masses, the MEDUSA Cannons, the LARD cannons…”

     Charlie tried to suppress a wave of anger. “I knew people whose brains were scrambled by MEDUSA, deafened for life by LARD, blinded by Protocol IV.”

     Mr. Angelopoulos let loose a deep sigh. “Electrocuted by blankets of wireless tasers, fried alive by microwave cannons.”

     Charlie felt his fists closing around his knife and fork. He felt the rage rise, so many disappeared, so many gone, and for what? The country’s locked up like a prison. All of us locked up in squalid lives. Charlie frowned. But not this man in front of me. This man would not be interested. This man would be irritated. This man would be angry. What was he doing here anyway? Why had he let an unknown servile onto his car with nothing but a porter with him? Who was this guy with a suitcase full of holog rams? Charlie looked across the table. He was shocked at what he saw.

     Mr. Angelopoulos was staring straight ahead. His hands gripped the table. His eyes were wide open. His lips were twitching. “So many disappeared.“ His deep voice was rising in pitch. “So many gone.” The color was running out of his face. “I have lost so many.” There was a long pause. His voice was that of a child. “There is no one left.“ Then a barely audible whisper, “I have lost them all.” He lowered his face and buried it in his hands. His shoulders trembled. He let out a low moan. 

     Charlie couldn’t believe it. His mouth fell open. Suddenly the agony boiled across the table and hit him square on. He had lost so many. There was no one left. He had lost them all. A sob caught in his throat. He gasped for air. He got out of his chair and stepped over to Mr. Angelopoulos. He stood over him and clasped his shoulders. “My wife is dead. My daughter is dead. All my friends are dead or disappeared.”

     Mr. Angelopoulos took a deep breath. “All of my family and all of my friends, all of the friends of my family, all of their families, all the friends of my friends and all their families, all I ever knew, all who ever knew them and all who ever knew them.” Tears poured out of his eyes. He shook. They both shook as the train bounced and swayed.

     Mr. Angelopoulos took Charlie’s hand. “Someone impaled a banker on a horn of the Bull of Bowling Green and the masses tore his corpse to pieces. Things are going to get very bad very fast. There will be no time for mourning. If they don’t find the perpetrator, they may close the route to Seattle. We may not get out of Portland tomorrow. Sleep as much as you can in your compartment tonight. You’ll need your strength. In the meantime, let us retire to the back platform. It’s quite a ride.”

     He rose and lifted his suitcase. Charlie followed him out to the corridor and through the parlor to the rear door. He opened it and the room was filled with a blast of sound. Two small chairs tied to the platform rattled and bounced. They carefully maneuvered themselves over to them and sat. Their weight barely stabilized the chairs and they had to secure themselves by gripping the railing. The roar of the train on the tracks was deafening. The wobbling, shaking, jerking ride was frighteningly thrilling. Charlie felt he could at any minute be tossed off into a void whose surface was just illuminated by the rear light that lit up the track burning into the black, moonless night.

     They sat side by side silent for many minutes. Charlie finally leaned to his host. “WE may not get out of Portland tomorrow?”

     Mr. Angelopoulos turned to him and smiled.