Read Scarleton Series I : Before the Cult for Free Online Page A

I am watching the rise and fall of my
salvation…”. Then with…
    Impulsively I
uttered, “We gonna end up like Calvin.”
    Macxermillio
gave me one of his hard to read looks from the driver’s seat. Then
he shifted his attention to the road as if nothing had been said,
or perhaps he did not even have the energy to react. In the
meantime my words awkwardly hung in the air, troubling me.
    After a few
moments of silence Macfearson gave a weary snorted laugh, his eyes
fixed on the dashboard. “You never knew him?” he murmured.
    “What?”
    “Calvin.” He
said. “You never knew him.”
    “Yes.” I
reluctantly agreed, not getting his point. I wanted to say “so
what?” But I suspected that would agitate him.
    His shoulders
slumped and his facial expression became softer and contemplative.
He sighed. “You are right. A noose around a neck would do it right
now. Perhaps the best thing.” He paused, as if he expected a
scolding. After prolonged silence he continued, “ I see why he
might have gave up. Why he might have felt so alone and in pain
that he delivered himself to the unknown.” He paused again to take
a deep breath. “Is that not the best thing? The only escape?”
    “Out of this
mess?”
    Macfearson
stayed silent for a little while. “The calling has a way of
convincing us that suicide is the way that makes complete sense. It
distorts reason and instinct. I still hold that to go off to a
beautiful lie, if the calling can’t be trusted, is the most
peaceful death.”
    Apart from
dealing with the possibility that the calling might have deceived
us about suicide as a transition tool (one of the things the
calling whispered in ours ears) to home there was the possibility
that we were doing something faulty methodically. The other
possibility, which intuitively felt unlikely, was the possibility
that we had not discovered one more mode of suicide; it started to
feel like digging against a rock. Nothing was coming out of it.
Something had to be wrong. We were back at doubting that the voices
in our head (the calling communicates with feelings and our
respective mental voices) truly spun from place of wisdom and
goodwill. We also began to question our perspective on the
situation of being stranded in a world we don’t belong and the
means of transportation.
    We were
meticulous at carrying out the sampling. Even with that record on
our side, we couldn’t carry on making people disappear. With every
sampling there was a shred of evidence and clues that were left
behind, at this was point the accumulation of evidence was becoming
really substantial. The town being a small town, suspects were easy
to make, connections were easily drawn and the authorities had too
much time in their hands. Not too much time, just sufficient and
effective. We had given all our best to Jay’s sampling. Twenty
experiments and no results. In our most logical of places we knew
that either we needed to expand our cognizance on the issue or
implement different approaches. Although we despised it, maybe the
sampling was not the solution and maybe the calling was never going
to help with anything. The pragmatics and engendering a will to
change was the overwhelmingly hard part, because we had no one
else, but mostly because the weight of this world on our lives’
essence was becoming alarmingly depowering. Pushing us closer to
annihilation, leaving no room for sanity and well-being.
    With it our
minds were becoming leisurely. A leisurely mind has no drive or
will. A mind orientated towards leisure alone is a dead mind. Very
close to nothingness and death. And soon a dead mind bores
itself…and when that happens we end up as Calvin with a noose the
only medal and reward for our quest. The scummy smelly butt print
on the sofa the only mark you leave behind. A leisurely mind is a
given up mind.
    Macfearson
spoke in a controlled voice with his bellicose frustration
shimmering underneath, “You ever had good coffee?With