3 Falling Down: The Speech

But of that day and hour knoweth every man: it was a Monday.

This is why everyone hates Mondays.

Neon Matthew 24:36 (Unified Standard Edition)

- - -

Hitomi was on her way to her favorite snack-stop on the way home from school: a cafe that served the world's best cupcakes.

You see, she had acquired a certain taste for cream cheese ever since the Smiths had introduced her to cheesecake. Glorious, glorious cheesecake.

And Americans treated cheesecake flavors the way Japanese treated Kit Kats. That is to say: by inventing dozens of varieties of it. (Which was weird, because, in the US for some reason there were only like 3-4 boring flavors of Kit Kats.)

But at the heart of cheesecake there was cream cheese, and cream cheese really wasn't a big thing back home in Japan.

Thankfully, it turned out that Hitomi's genetics put her in the 5-10% of her fellow Japanese who weren't lactose intolerant, and she had learned that she could indulge freely.

Indulge she did!

Imagine taking her beloved cream cheese, whipping it into a cake frosting, and slathering it on top of a "Red Velvet" cupcake.

It was heaven.

So. Very. Good.

Rich, velvety, crumbly, chocolate. Nom-nom-nom.

Minako preferred the bacon-topped cupcake. Ew. Minako. Just: ew.

But best of all? YouTube had taught her how to make a cupcake sandwich by pulling off the bottom half and stacking it on top of the cream cheese like a giant macaron.

Thank you YouTube. Truly you are doing God's work.

Hitomi came around the corner, passing a red-brick wall that had been spray-painted with graffiti. It said "Black Lives Matter" in wide strokes of white spray paint. Politics wasn't her strong point, but she was sure Diamond would approve of the writing on the wall.

Georgetown was an odd mix of different building styles, mostly in red or brown bricks, full of shops and restaurants all bundled next to each other in long rows separated only by streets. The neighborhood was known for its college student-friendly atmosphere, which, in a way, extended to her too as an older high school student. So she liked to think at least.

It was a pretty long line today and all the tables were full. Couples on dates, students with notepads and textbooks, businessmen and women ending their workday - even some young mothers with children were enjoying their baked treats and the smell was incredibly inviting.

In the background a TV was tuned to one of the many American political-opinion networks, which made perfect sense given she was in an upscale D.C. neighborhood. A lot of people here actually worked for the government.

Oh. It sounded like the President himself was speaking, so it was no wonder why the volume had been turned up by the cafe's owner. The dark-skinned woman was behind the glass counter boxing up an order for a guy in a baseball cap several places ahead of her in line. The owner seemed to be staring awfully hard at the man's hat with a sour look on her face, but Hitomi wasn't sure why.

"OHMYGOD!" someone yelled behind her, nearly causing her to trip as she whipped around, seeing the voice's owner pointing a shaky finger at the TV mounted in the corner.

Wha- What!?

Had someone changed the channel? Was that a sword? What was happening!?

Wa- was that? Oh my god, oh my god! She started having a panic attack as a bunch of people swarmed past her, pushing and jostling, all trying to better see the big flat-screen TV in the corner.

The screen went completely white.

It was so bright, it hurt to look at!

The light faded a bit and the camera was shaking, trying to stay focused on the President who slipped around the podium and slumped to the ground.

An assassination!?

The picture of the U.N. meeting had been in a small window on the news show while a bunch of text had been crawling beneath it. Suddenly the camera angle and display went full screen and she couldn't even understand what was happening.

There was a figure, no, a man, holding a sword and standing in mid-air held within bright halo of streaming light.

The distinctive pop-pop of repetitive gunfire filled the cafe as the owner desperately tried to turn up the volume on the TV to find out what was happening. There were men in suits swarming from the aisles, taking aim upwards at the sword wielding figure and firing shot after shot at it.

She could see someone rushing beneath the floating being of light to pull the body of the President out of the way.

Hitomi could swear she heard some sort of background music, it almost sounded like a chorus, but it was too far away to hear clearly.

The camera zoomed in and then she could see bullets striking the figure without effect, rippling across the fabric of its robe and disappearing in splashes of nothingness. One of the security agents, very bravely, jumped on top of the podium, and, while falling off to the side, aimed directly at the strange being's forehead from only inches away and fired repeatedly as he fell. The bullets simply dissolved in smears of white light.

The figure lifted its left hand slowly to its chest level, palm down, and then swiftly motioned it to the left.

"KNEEL."

Suddenly the guards and security personnel stopped firing their guns. The sound of metal and flesh thumping onto the carpeted floor could be heard even from wherever the news camera crew was filming. She could see that dozens of men and women had their right knees glued to the floor, their heads bowed. Hitomi could tell they were straining to move, necks bulging with the effort, but they were held in place.

Frozen.

A newscaster on the scene started to break in, trying to say something over the chaos, even as the previously stunned delegates and representatives in the audience began bolting from their seats.

"SILENCE."

Whatever the newscaster was about to say died in his throat. All around the room the audience stopped and turned, unable to say anything, unable to leave.

All attention was on the being of light holding its great and terrible sword.

"BEHOLD."

Hitomi realized it was speaking Japanese!

She could understand it clear as day!

It flipped its left hand upwards, palm uplifted, and gestured widely - almost welcoming. The sword stayed still in its right hand, unnaturally still. Unwavering.

"A MARVELOUS WORK AND A WONDER IS ABOUT TO COME FORTH AMONG THE CHILDREN OF MEN."

Wow. It was speaking very archaic Japanese.

Old, old Japanese.

What work, though? What wonder? Children of men?

"FOR IS IT NOT WRITTEN, 'NO MAN SHALL KNOW THE DAY OF THE COMING OF THE LORD'?"

What was happening?

She looked around, realizing that the woman next to her in line had fainted dead away onto the floor. The man behind her, a chubby man with greying hair, was kneeling, looking up to the TV with his hands clasped.

Was he praying?

Whoa. Hitomi realized she was one of the few people not already on the ground. Even the owner was coming around the side of the counter in halting, unsure steps - holding on to the counter edges to steady herself.

"AND IS IT NOT WRITTEN, 'HE SHALL COME LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT'?"

Her mind was running at a million miles a second. This sounded eerily familiar.

Like church stuff.

Suddenly her right hand was tugged downwards.

The man with the baseball cap had come over beside her and was kneeling, trying to urgently pull her down with one hand while holding his cap over his heart with the other.

He seemed so insistent! But she pulled her hand back, not wanting to touch anybody at a time like this.

Another woman let out a strangled cry, hugging her kids close. They were all crying, confused at what was happening. Just like her.

The figure lifted the sword, dropping its other hand to its side, and pointed towards a camera on the other side of the hall.

Almost instantly the TV crew switched to that camera angle, showing a closer view as they tried to zoom in.

It was too bright for a moment, but the TV people must've done something because the contrast faded and at last she could see the figure up close.

The figure was a man, with dark skin - bronzed, olive-tanned skin. He looked almost Middle-Eastern, Hitomi thought, with brown eyes and closely cropped, dark hair that curled in short clumps.

His lips were tightly sealed shut.

"I AM THAT THIEF."

His mouth hadn't moved, but the words washed over her as a rush of warmth filled her entire body. A tingling raced from her fingertips up through her arms and into her legs. Her stomach suddenly felt lifted.

The kids had stopped crying. Hitomi looked down at them, amazed at how their fear had melted away - how her own fear had melted away. Their mother was still staring at the TV.

Hitomi realized, very late, that they must be hearing the words in English, because everyone around her seemed to be understanding the... what? Angel? God?

"Jesus is the Christ!" someone said, raising his voice.

"Amen!" another yelled, jubilant.

"DO NOT REJOICE."

All the feelings of calm and warmth fled from her body. She felt cold.

There were gasps all around her, people started looking around at each other wildly.

"THE DAY OF JUDGMENT IS AT HAND."

Judgment? Wait. Wait!

WAIT!

It was too soon, she couldn't be "judged!"

She didn't know anything about anything! She was just a teenager! She wasn't even a Christian! Wait, what even happens to non-Christians if the world was ending? The Smiths hadn't been clear about that!

Someone shouted: "Hallelujah!"

You idiot! Don't encourage the extradimensional being of light that has a giant, world-leader killing sword and can talk directly into our heads!

But obviously the sentiment was shared by others in the restaurant. There were people openly weeping, but in happiness. They had grins on their faces.

They were certain they were about to receive their reward for being faithful believers in Jesus, or God, or whatever it was they believed in.

"YEA, YOU HAVE BEEN JUDGED."

There was an audible moment of silence, a billion breaths held around the planet.

"AND FOUND WANTING."

A wail. Screams.

All feelings of hope fled. Gone. The swell of ethereal music, the heavenly chorus accompanying this angelic visitor, it was all gone.

The children started crying again and Hitomi's mind went into overdrive.

"GOD IS DONE WITH YOU. THE TEST IS OVER. YOU HAVE FAILED."

Failed? At what? What test? There had been a test? Of what?

Life!?

Existence!?

"YOUR PUNISHMENT WILL BE EXPLAINED SIMPLY, SO THAT YOU CANNOT MISUNDERSTAND."

The sudden shift from archaic Japanese to the everyday version that she might hear on a Tokyo news station was jarring.

People had gone from silent tears of joy to crying hysterically all around her, women and men alike. Hitomi was still standing there in shock, listening as "it" continued speaking without moving its lips.

"THERE IS NO FORGIVENESS LEFT FOR YOU."

No forgiveness left? Forgiveness for what? Sins?

This wasn't fair! She was just a kid!

She wasn't like, some terrible, evil sinner! She hadn't killed anybody! She wasn't a murderer!

"YOU IMAGINE GREAT FLOODS OR FIRES, BUT GOD, IN HIS WISDOM, WILL NOT DESTROY YOU."

"YET."

She sagged in relief.

"THE PUNISHMENT MUST FIT THE CRIME."

"YOU, WHO PRIDE YOURSELVES AS BEING MASTERS OF YOUR WORLD."

"YOU, WHO BEG FOR ETERNAL LIFE AND FEAR DEATH ABOVE ALL."

"YOU, WHO QUESTIONED IN THE RECESSES OF YOUR MINDS WHETHER THE SOUL WAS REAL."

"I WILL ANSWER YOU. THE SOUL IS REAL. IT IS YOUR CONNECTION BETWEEN THE MIND AND THE HEREAFTER."

Hitomi was swallowed up in the crowd expressing joy at the revelation that there really was an afterlife, and that souls were real and they would all live on somehow after death.

"YOUR PUNISHMENT IS TWOFOLD:"

The mass of people around her stilled, most still on their knees, hands clasped in prayer and devotion.

"TO KNOW THAT THE SOUL IS REAL, AND TO KNOW YOU NO LONGER HAVE ONE."

"YOU HAVE ACTED LIKE ANIMALS, AND SO YOU WILL *BE* ANIMALS."

"YOU ARE CLAY. YOU ARE FLESH."

"YOU WILL LIVE AND DIE AS MEAT AND NOTHING MORE."

"NO RESURRECTION AWAITS YOU. NO HEAVEN. NO HELL."

"YOU WHO HAD FAITH IN THE ATONEMENT OF JESUS CHRIST WILL FIND NO REWARD IN DEATH."

"THERE IS NOTHING AFTER DEATH FOR YOU NOW."

"WHEN YOU DIE, YOU WILL BE **."

Glass was breaking in the background, but all the sounds seemed to be muted. Hitomi wanted to turn away and look, but the Voice laid heavy in her mind.

But what was that last word it had said?

Why wasn't it clear!?

What happens when we die?

The being let go of the sword, and to Hitomi's surprise it continued floating in place as its hand dropped to its side.

"I WILL RETURN TO THIS PLACE IN ONE YEAR."

"I WILL THEN ANSWER SEVEN QUESTIONS. CHOOSE THEM WISELY."

A year? What difference would a year make? Did they get their souls back if they survived for a year?

But if they died in the mean time they just... ceased to exist? But how was that different from how things always had been before? What about all the other religions, what about -

On the screen the light grew brighter, swallowing up the being and then shrinking down until there was nothing left. It was almost like looking down a long tunnel of light; it receded both in distance and scale at the same time.

"IT IS DONE."

It felt like a thunderclap: those final words.

It was over.

Finally, all the sound of the world around her came rushing back in, there were people crying, but crying was a poor description. There were faces full of fear or terror, tracks of tears streaming down faces, confusion: utter panic and fear.

She was scared, she realized, so scared.

She pushed her way out the door, the sun was still bright outside and it blinded her for just a moment.

CRASH.

A car smashed into the building across from her and a horn blared.