Magnus the Lesser, or what the acolytes referred to as the beneficiary, stepped into the Tower of Man. A doorman, probably in his twenties, put on a plastic smile and greeted him. 'Hello sir'. The lobby smelled of cleaning products and carpet cleaner. The sound of chatter was quickly hushed as he appeared and resumed as he passed.
"Good morning, Eric." He grunted as he passed the reception desk. When he didn't receive a reply, he looked up from his phone to find both his employee and security engaged in a quiet conversation off near the corner of the room. A man from the outside was there. Faint, insistent arguing was well concealed but still apparent. Magnus walked to the reception desk and put down his briefcase, catching a second of the conversation that was being held a few yards away. It was a trespassing issue, but one not likely to be resolved amicably.
"You must be invited to enter the Tower, sir." A security guard said firmly. "We no longer allow visitors to the Tower without expressed permission."
The man said something Magnus couldn't make out and flashed what appeared to be an old invitation, one which would have allowed him entry back when Pious had been the Church of Man. Those times were over. Pious had been soft. He thought.
His birth brother, Pious McNally had built the Church of Man into a worldwide conglomerate with far reaching influence. Making billions in the real estate business, Pious had shoveled his fortune into the creation of this temple then just before its completion, found himself murdered inside its walls.
Poor fool.
His brother had been the face of the Church. He had been open to the public, an inviting and some say extroverted charismatic who loved his radio sermons and social activities. Magnus was none of those things. As stolid as his brother had been open, Magnus was cut from a different tailor. Even his suits reflected this. Whereas Pious had loved his personal belongings and well thought out wardrobe, Magnus preferred all black all the time. Pious had been showy some heard him remark at his sibling's wake the year prior.
Still, the Church had survived. Flourished in fact since Magnus had taken control. Of course the acolytes knew nothing of the fact he had been a silent partner from the Church's inception. The shock and worry were evident in their faces when he had materialized like a specter a few days after his brother's demise to assume power. But perhaps they did see a ghost. Magnus and Pious had similar features. A high sloping forehead and prominent jowels. Deep, recessed eyes and salt and pepper checkered hair, the two had always looked alike.
As he drew closer, he put on a wooden smile.
"What is the problem?"
Security nodded to him and cleared his throat. "Sir, this gentleman has an old invite pass that was issued when-"
Magnus cut him off. "It's invalid." He said. "We don't allow public entrance into the Tower anymore."
The man scofffed. "But when I got it, it was perfectly valid. Why can't you honor it now?"
Magnus sighed. He had been dealing with these Pious problems for months now- business licenses and real estate contracts, developers still looking to cash in on the Church's sizable fortune.
He thought of having the man simply thrown out of the building. But as much as he despised working in the public domain, a public incident would be worse.
"Sir, this invitation was issued when Pious McNally was the head of operations. Since Pious is now dead, what would you use the invitation for?"
"To see my painting!" The man all but screamed.
Magnus reached out and plucked the invitation from the small, wiry fingers and read it aloud/
"Giovanni Cortan."
Oh my! He knew this name. Giovanni Cortan was the artist Pious had commissioned to create a giant ceiling mosaic on the West side of the Tower. Cortan was a famous name in art circles. His pieces commanded top dollar. Magnus himself had been impressed with the mural. A dark, cosmic scene, the gods of yesteryear were depicted as torn to pieces by demons while a vibrant human male ascended to the sky. It was controversial no doubt but a lovely mosaic. Magnus had marveled up at it when he first entered the Tower.
"Mr. Cortan. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you."
"Yes, hello." Cortan replied. "May I pass?"
"Of course. Of course."
Cortan threw a look of disdain at security and shuffled past the reception area and onto the escalator that would take him to the painting's showroom.
Magnus glanced at security who slowly followed him up to the second floor. Magnus waited a full minute before heading up the escalator himself. Goosebumps had appeared on his arms and something in the back of his mind told him that Cortan couldn't be trusted.
As he got to the top of the escalator, he stood struck dumb staring as smoke spilled out from the showroom front entrance. The painting! The damned artist had come to burn it!
Magnus ran swiftly into the room, ducking his head as he entered. Cortan and security were wrestling over a lit zippo that had been used to light the fabric streamers that hanged from the ceiling on either side of the mosaic. Magnus turned, looked up as the lit fabric burned up the seam. An orange line crawled steadily closer to the painting that was perhaps four feet above.
Magnus motioned with his left hand. Security let go of Cortan and ran for a fire extinguisher encased in glass on the side wall next to the exit.
"It's too late!" Magnus screamed.
He knew that it wasn't just the painting that was endanger of being engulfed. The entire Tower was at risk if the blaze got out of control.
"Call the fire department!"
Magnus leaped forward, catching Cortan across his face with his left fist. The little artist tumbled then was thrown onto his back.
"What have you done?" Magnus screamed.
"It's a desecration!" Cortan shrieked shrilly. "It's blasphemous and I won't have it!"
"It's not yours to have," Magnus replied and kicked hard into the man's stomach.
From outside he heard sirens and hoped there was little traffic in front of the Tower. He looked up to see the top corner of the Ascendance of Man peeling away like dead skin. He could smell the paint as it shriveled under the heat. Somewhere, Cortan was laughing manically. "The gods have come to us! You're all wrong. They are here!"
"They're husks." Magnus sneered.
Suddenly, the Tower's fire sprinkler system activated and water sprayed down from sprinklers installed around the painting. Cortan fell onto his behind as he realized the masterwork would be saved. He brushed his hand across his forehead, stared up with blood shot eyes as the painting smoked, singed from the fire. Perhaps a four to five feet area had been burned clear away. The area close to the burn was bubbling and raised from the ceiling. Blue and yellow drizzled down the painting in little streams.
"The Church of Man is a farce!" Cortan said. His eyes red from the tears that streamed down, he raised a tiny fist to Magnus. "You're a devil McNally. Just like your brother was."
To Magnus's surprise, the man began to cry. A low, choking sob, Cortan put his hands over his face and his body spasmed in his grief.
"You're a fool, Giovanni." Magnus said quietly. "You see? Look what the gods have done to you? Look at the anguish you're knowing right now, at this second. They don't deserve you Giovanni."
Cortan wiped his face, glanced back up at the ceiling. His mouth quivered. "Well, they don't deserve that." He rasped. From his vantage point, Magnus had to look straight above his head to see the violence that the mosiac depicted. He covered his face to the sprinkler spray and squinted.
"The gods aren't dead McNally." Cortan said.
"No, but they hate us Giovanni. They hate the humanity they've descended into. How could they not?"
"Bah! You don't know McNally. You don't know that."
"But I do. I do know that. It's the reason they stay in hiding."
"They stay in hiding from people like you!"
Magnus turned away as police and fire department spilled into the room. As they hauled Cortan onto his feet, Magnus looked the old artist in the eye. Putting his head down, he mumbled. "No charges will be filed. The old man has been deceived."
"I think it's you who deceive McNally. You're a deceiver."
Magnus heard a rustle from above and thought the painting had become unhinged and was ready to topple from above. Then he remembered that the entire ceiling would have to come down for that to happen. Still, he didn't feel relieved and couldn't say why he felt no real comfort in the painting being saved.
"Good morning, Eric." He grunted as he passed the reception desk. When he didn't receive a reply, he looked up from his phone to find both his employee and security engaged in a quiet conversation off near the corner of the room. A man from the outside was there. Faint, insistent arguing was well concealed but still apparent. Magnus walked to the reception desk and put down his briefcase, catching a second of the conversation that was being held a few yards away. It was a trespassing issue, but one not likely to be resolved amicably.
"You must be invited to enter the Tower, sir." A security guard said firmly. "We no longer allow visitors to the Tower without expressed permission."
The man said something Magnus couldn't make out and flashed what appeared to be an old invitation, one which would have allowed him entry back when Pious had been the Church of Man. Those times were over. Pious had been soft. He thought.
His birth brother, Pious McNally had built the Church of Man into a worldwide conglomerate with far reaching influence. Making billions in the real estate business, Pious had shoveled his fortune into the creation of this temple then just before its completion, found himself murdered inside its walls.
Poor fool.
His brother had been the face of the Church. He had been open to the public, an inviting and some say extroverted charismatic who loved his radio sermons and social activities. Magnus was none of those things. As stolid as his brother had been open, Magnus was cut from a different tailor. Even his suits reflected this. Whereas Pious had loved his personal belongings and well thought out wardrobe, Magnus preferred all black all the time. Pious had been showy some heard him remark at his sibling's wake the year prior.
Still, the Church had survived. Flourished in fact since Magnus had taken control. Of course the acolytes knew nothing of the fact he had been a silent partner from the Church's inception. The shock and worry were evident in their faces when he had materialized like a specter a few days after his brother's demise to assume power. But perhaps they did see a ghost. Magnus and Pious had similar features. A high sloping forehead and prominent jowels. Deep, recessed eyes and salt and pepper checkered hair, the two had always looked alike.
As he drew closer, he put on a wooden smile.
"What is the problem?"
Security nodded to him and cleared his throat. "Sir, this gentleman has an old invite pass that was issued when-"
Magnus cut him off. "It's invalid." He said. "We don't allow public entrance into the Tower anymore."
The man scofffed. "But when I got it, it was perfectly valid. Why can't you honor it now?"
Magnus sighed. He had been dealing with these Pious problems for months now- business licenses and real estate contracts, developers still looking to cash in on the Church's sizable fortune.
He thought of having the man simply thrown out of the building. But as much as he despised working in the public domain, a public incident would be worse.
"Sir, this invitation was issued when Pious McNally was the head of operations. Since Pious is now dead, what would you use the invitation for?"
"To see my painting!" The man all but screamed.
Magnus reached out and plucked the invitation from the small, wiry fingers and read it aloud/
"Giovanni Cortan."
Oh my! He knew this name. Giovanni Cortan was the artist Pious had commissioned to create a giant ceiling mosaic on the West side of the Tower. Cortan was a famous name in art circles. His pieces commanded top dollar. Magnus himself had been impressed with the mural. A dark, cosmic scene, the gods of yesteryear were depicted as torn to pieces by demons while a vibrant human male ascended to the sky. It was controversial no doubt but a lovely mosaic. Magnus had marveled up at it when he first entered the Tower.
"Mr. Cortan. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you."
"Yes, hello." Cortan replied. "May I pass?"
"Of course. Of course."
Cortan threw a look of disdain at security and shuffled past the reception area and onto the escalator that would take him to the painting's showroom.
Magnus glanced at security who slowly followed him up to the second floor. Magnus waited a full minute before heading up the escalator himself. Goosebumps had appeared on his arms and something in the back of his mind told him that Cortan couldn't be trusted.
As he got to the top of the escalator, he stood struck dumb staring as smoke spilled out from the showroom front entrance. The painting! The damned artist had come to burn it!
Magnus ran swiftly into the room, ducking his head as he entered. Cortan and security were wrestling over a lit zippo that had been used to light the fabric streamers that hanged from the ceiling on either side of the mosaic. Magnus turned, looked up as the lit fabric burned up the seam. An orange line crawled steadily closer to the painting that was perhaps four feet above.
Magnus motioned with his left hand. Security let go of Cortan and ran for a fire extinguisher encased in glass on the side wall next to the exit.
"It's too late!" Magnus screamed.
He knew that it wasn't just the painting that was endanger of being engulfed. The entire Tower was at risk if the blaze got out of control.
"Call the fire department!"
Magnus leaped forward, catching Cortan across his face with his left fist. The little artist tumbled then was thrown onto his back.
"What have you done?" Magnus screamed.
"It's a desecration!" Cortan shrieked shrilly. "It's blasphemous and I won't have it!"
"It's not yours to have," Magnus replied and kicked hard into the man's stomach.
From outside he heard sirens and hoped there was little traffic in front of the Tower. He looked up to see the top corner of the Ascendance of Man peeling away like dead skin. He could smell the paint as it shriveled under the heat. Somewhere, Cortan was laughing manically. "The gods have come to us! You're all wrong. They are here!"
"They're husks." Magnus sneered.
Suddenly, the Tower's fire sprinkler system activated and water sprayed down from sprinklers installed around the painting. Cortan fell onto his behind as he realized the masterwork would be saved. He brushed his hand across his forehead, stared up with blood shot eyes as the painting smoked, singed from the fire. Perhaps a four to five feet area had been burned clear away. The area close to the burn was bubbling and raised from the ceiling. Blue and yellow drizzled down the painting in little streams.
"The Church of Man is a farce!" Cortan said. His eyes red from the tears that streamed down, he raised a tiny fist to Magnus. "You're a devil McNally. Just like your brother was."
To Magnus's surprise, the man began to cry. A low, choking sob, Cortan put his hands over his face and his body spasmed in his grief.
"You're a fool, Giovanni." Magnus said quietly. "You see? Look what the gods have done to you? Look at the anguish you're knowing right now, at this second. They don't deserve you Giovanni."
Cortan wiped his face, glanced back up at the ceiling. His mouth quivered. "Well, they don't deserve that." He rasped. From his vantage point, Magnus had to look straight above his head to see the violence that the mosiac depicted. He covered his face to the sprinkler spray and squinted.
"The gods aren't dead McNally." Cortan said.
"No, but they hate us Giovanni. They hate the humanity they've descended into. How could they not?"
"Bah! You don't know McNally. You don't know that."
"But I do. I do know that. It's the reason they stay in hiding."
"They stay in hiding from people like you!"
Magnus turned away as police and fire department spilled into the room. As they hauled Cortan onto his feet, Magnus looked the old artist in the eye. Putting his head down, he mumbled. "No charges will be filed. The old man has been deceived."
"I think it's you who deceive McNally. You're a deceiver."
Magnus heard a rustle from above and thought the painting had become unhinged and was ready to topple from above. Then he remembered that the entire ceiling would have to come down for that to happen. Still, he didn't feel relieved and couldn't say why he felt no real comfort in the painting being saved.
