Treuth

By Stephen Faulds

A sequel to Sinkronisity featuring a few of the earlier characters together with a different cross section of the time warped universe. The theme of this story is the nature of truth, especially in relation to organised religion, in this case a religion that springs from the teachings of Jusus of Garicea who travels the land with twelve burly men annointing the faithful.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen Faulds
• Release date: Oct 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301209477

Stephen Faulds

Stephen Faulds is an English teacher at a Perth high school with many years experience teaching both English and Drama. He has written seven novels and published numerous poems, short stories and articles. He has written many short scripts, which have been performed by students at both primary and secondary level. His play Seatown was performed at The Blue Room theatre in 2007 and has been published by The Australian Script Centre. He has a web site featuring his writing, photography and artwork. He recently wrote a sequel to Seatown with the assistance of an ARTSWA writing grant. His work is featured on a web site at www.stephenfaulds.com which is archived at the State Library of WAWriter’s notebook http://stephenfaulds.wikispaces.com/

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TREUTH

Stephen Faulds

Published by Stephen Faulds

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Stephen Faulds

Revised Edition 2019

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. If you enjoy this novel please post a review.

Elward Prinknash was a member of the Dinosophical Society. Ever since he had left the Sinbutt Plentycostal Church, he had regarded himself as a Seeker. When his former Pastor asked him what he was seeking, he said he wouldn’t know that until he found it. He wasn’t trying to be clever, he just didn’t know.

Elward worked as volunteer in the Dinosophical Society Library & Bookshop every Saturday morning. It was a good way to meet interesting people while continuing his search. He would often discover useful books he hadn’t noticed before. Unfortunately they usually came to his attention as a loan or a purchase. More than once he had told a prospective customer or borrower that a particular book, which they had just placed on the counter was in fact already sold, or reserved. (I’m sorry but I’ll place a back order for you and let you know the minute it arrives.)

Which was how he met Mildred Perkwill. Mildred was a Seeker too and as far as she was concerned, possession was nine tenths of the search. She intended to buy the copy of Autobiography of an Old Fakir that was in her hot little hands. Nothing Elward said convinced her otherwise. And her grip was stronger than his grab.

‘I’ll take it unwarped,’ she said.

‘You mean unwrapped, don’t you?’

‘I said what I meant.’ She paid her money and walked out of his life. For a week.

When Elward ordered a copy of Autobiography of an Old Fakir for himself he found it was out of print. That was when he first considered dating Mildred. The search for life’s meaning often leads seekers into unexpected experiences and relationships. Mildred was about to provide Elward with both.

Relationships not founded on complete honesty often run into difficulty at some point. Elward and Mildred ran into difficulty at almost every point.

‘Why?’

‘Because ... I ... I’m in like with you.’

‘Since when?’

‘Since last week when I sold you the last ... I mean that copy of Autobiography of an Old Fakir ISBN 03847546282964439.’

‘You have a really good memory.’

‘I read a lot.’

At this point, Elward would have been wise to ask Mildred on a date. But he didn’t. He asked her on a date and he asked her ‘Oh, by the way, could I borrow your copy of Autobiography of an Old Fakir?’

Naturally Mildred refused. She wanted to get to know him first. Their first date was for dinner at the Flat Cabbage Vegan Restaurant. Elward arrived late. Mildred was already on to dessert.

‘Sorry. I was downloading the Find-Your-Local-Guru Directory. I don’t have broadband.’

‘You should try the quince ice cream. It’s delicious,’ she said, gritting her teeth.

Mildred was very restrained. She waited until Elward had finished his Candied Sprouts, before she told him that the next time he was late for a date would be the last time he enjoyed her pleasant company. He tactfully refrained from mentioning she had done nothing but scowl at him since he arrived.

Elward might have tried to hold Mildred’s hand as he walked her home that night but she kept waving it about, explaining the connection between quantum physics and flower arranging and pointing out astrological constellations in the sky. A kiss goodnight was out of the question. She shut the front gate, said ‘Thank you for an interesting night, Elward,’ and walked to her door. As he watched her, he thought ‘Apart from being slightly bowlegged, she is quite attractive’.

~

op. cit.

Rodney’s Spiritule Thesaurus 3rd edition (hard bound)

treuth: a theoretical concept first thought of by God who found it very useful for confusing people into joining religions where He could keep an eye on them.

syn. true, really true, truesohelpme, sooo true, truish, too true. ant. false, folse, untrue, lie, bull, crap, codswallop.

~

Fakir Rooney reached for an incense stick. There were guests arriving. He lit some jasmine and closed his eyes. The camera flashlight made him open them again.

‘Can I be in one?’

‘Okay. Just stand next to him.’

These voices were in Takanese. They have been translated because Fakir Rooney understood every language ever invented and that is how he heard it - in his own language. Unfortunately, Fakir Rooney couldn’t speak in every language ever invented - just his own.

There is a Takan on every habitable planet in the galaxy. And they all have tourists with cameras. These ones were from Minor Oldavia in the Big Dipper part of the Milfy Way.

‘Welcome and blessings. If you could just take a small amount of change from your pocket, fold it and place it in my bowl.’

‘Can’t understand a word you’re saying, old man.’

‘It’s a tradition with Sunyassin on this planet.’

‘He’s probably saying, have a nice day.’

‘Put some money in the bowl or a nice day is the last thing you are going to have.’

The Takanese tourists all smiled. As they walked away there was a loud trumpeting sound. An elephunt thundered toward the Takanese tourists, looking like it was going to trample them to death. It stopped in front of them as if a pinhead was its usual tarmac. The elephunt, which was wearing a colourful saddlecloth and innumerable gold bells and tassels, raised its trunk slowly and extended it toward them. They stared at the great nostril ... for they recognised that’s what it was. They didn’t need Fakir Rooney to interpret the gesture. It was asking for money. They dug hastily into their pockets and produced cash, traveller’s cheques and credit cards, which the elephunt grasped in the manner of a rubbery vacuum cleaner hose and handed to the Fakir.

‘Thank you for your kind donation,’ said the Fakir merrily, knowing it didn’t matter what language he said it in. The tourists hurried away as the elephunt sat down and rolled playfully at the Fakir’s feet.

Fakir Rooney was a busy man. He had discovered a method that worked. And there seemed to be an endless supply of Takanese tourists. Being a Holy Man though, he should have considered the question of karma - particularly Instant Karma. He was about to get some.

It is a fact of history on most planets in most dimensions that, those whose business interests are threatened, will eventually strike back. Takanese Travel Agents are no exception. They were beginning to feel the squeeze. No one wants to go anywhere if they stand half a chance of being trampled by a mad religious elephunt. The Travel Agents were convinced there was some kind of hoax at work. They had only ever seen elephunts in zoos. They couldn’t conceive of one that did anything more than blow dust over itself with its trunk and eat peanuts through the wire fence of its enclosure. They set out to investigate. They figured the trip would be worthwhile anyway because they could write a Travel Guide while they were at it.

Fakir Rooney had only just begun to notice a decline in Takanese tourist numbers when the Travel Agents arrived. They were dressed like Marfia. Samarai Marfia. Fakir Rooney knew enough about human nature to know that a) the elephunt trick wasn’t going to work on these guys and b) this wasn’t a social visit. He considered offering to donate all the proceeds of his crimes to a charity of their choice but he also knew that c) it wasn’t the money so much as the principle. The principle being that anyone who interfered with their business was going to pay for it.

Luckily none of the Agents was silly enough to stand in the way of an elephunt, so Fakir Rooney was able to make a getaway. The Agents all shrugged. They had made their point. It wouldn’t happen again. One of them actually smiled, thinking Quite a character that Fakir you have to admit.

The Fakir’s getaway opened up a whole new dimension in his life. He and his elephunt thundered straight into a time warp.

‘Oshe It!’ said the Fakir as they impersonated melted cheese.

~

Old Rang lived in a cave on a fault line in a time warp. Which is saying a lot. Anyone who chooses to live in a time warp has probably given up most aspects of human endeavour and is happy to sit watching millenniums go by like chickens on a rotisserie. Rang certainly had. His last foray into real time and space had resulted in a fantasy novel, four marriages and a mild bout of dyspepsia*. He had vowed never to return. There was no existence more satisfying than sitting in a comfortable yoga posture at the crossroads of the universe, watching the cavalcade of sentient evolution.

*As documented in the erudite tome Sinkronisity.

When Fakir Rooney and his elephunt dropped in, Old Rang had a sense of deeja vu. He had met old fakirs before. In fact he had once been an old farker himself.

‘Oh. Sorry. I seem to have missed the turn,’ said Fakir Rooney. Old Rang stared into the middle distance, as if elephunts on his doorstep were an every day occurrence. ‘A four ton elephunt can be a bit hard to manoeuvre.’ The Fakir recognised Old Rang’s apparent lack of response. Inscrutability. He had tried it a few times himself. This bloke looked like an expert.

‘I don’t suppose there are any temples around here?’ Rang glanced in the direction of a red and yellow building further along the time warp. A sign said The Little Burger House At the Crossroads of the Universe. ‘Ah yes. Modern life. The shrine of consumerism. I’m a bit old fashioned myself. I prefer commerce heavily disguised as religion.’ Rang plucked a small hair from his ear lobe and flicked it away. ‘Yes, choice is a fine thing,’ said the Fakir.

The Burger House was run by the local village Chief who just happened to be wandering up for a chat with Rang as a pretext for checking out the elephunt. The Chief was a deceptively perspicacious man who presided over the Nottle Village with a blend of tribal superstition and modern pragmatism*.

* On one hand he planned marketing strategies for the extremely profitable Burger franchise and on the other, he encouraged his villagers to believe that the sun only came up in the morning if Old Rang did his yodelling meditation after being woken by the sound of a bucket dropped outside his cave.

‘That one fine cash cow,’ said the Chief, admiring the decorated elephunt.

‘This is a noble beast dedicated to the service of an ancient religion,’ said the Fakir pointedly.

‘Same thing,’ beamed the Chief. Rang gave a wry grin.

‘Cynicism is all very well but some of us choose the spiritual path in life,’ said the Fakir. Rang coughed, as though he was about to choke.

‘I know all about spiritual path,’ said the Chief. ‘My daughter run off with old Faker like you.’

The Fakir looked sideways, very quickly. Rang squinted. ‘Anyway,’ said the Chief. ‘Enough small talk. You come down to my Lodge for traditional cup of awful herb tea. I have business proposition for you.’

Half an hour later, the Fakir was shaking hands with the Chief who had contracted him to run elephunt rides from the front of the Burger House and have his face on little bottles of tap water labelled Holy Water from the Great Gunjy River.

~

Take God. Many superstitious people do. Which He sometimes finds annoying, especially when they persist in the silly old belief that He is a Woman. God has a lot of things on His mind. Not least of which is the annoying tendency of unscrupulous people to infringe His copyright in the pursuit of dubious commercial ventures. When a genuine spiritual movement arises, it is often difficult to establish its veracity because it is usually more like the bogus varieties than the bogus varieties themselves.

God put down His pen. He had been making a few adjustments to some old prophecies that were never very well thought out. He just had to find a Prophet to reveal them to. It had to be a person with street cred. These days, the beard and robes didn’t inspire religious fervour the way they used to.

The whole Armageddin thing was passé. Besides, market forces changed society much more radically nowadays. The falling shekel had crippled the economy and people were re-examining their values, buying farmlets and letting their children run around in bare feet. It was much more effective than walls crumbling in Jeriko, or pestilence striking Babilon. Less guilt too. The End of the World idea had gotten way out of hand. When you show a 12th Century Monk, a vision of a few incendiary bombs in the 20th Century, he gets carried away and imagines the stars are going to fall from the heavens. You show him a five star General with eyebrows that meet in the middle and he starts thinking Antikrist.

The kind of Prophet needed now, was a bloke who was level-headed and down to earth and didn’t exaggerate. He could choose a woman but that was probably going too far. He thought He had found just the person. The trouble was, this person was a bit preoccupied at the moment because he was worried about his destuny. There is nothing as annoying to God as someone searching for his destuny.

~

The fruit season was almost over. Jeses D’Lima was picking the last of the mandarins in his father’s orchard. It had been a long harvest and they had bumper crops of oranges and olives. Jeses knew his inheritance was secure. He had been shovelling camel manure onto cashew trees all his life. There weren’t many young men in Garicea who stood to inherit seven kubits of land with orchards, a fresh water oyster pond and a camel stud.

But Jeses was not content. Pruning olive trees and shelling cashews wasn’t unfolding his inner potential. Not that he knew he had one. This was before self help psychology and motivation books began to appear on the bookshelves (actually, bookshelf) of the bookshop (actually, one corner of Yamma Tefu’s Fruit and Vegetable Emporium) in Garicea. He had this deep sense of emptiness, even after he had just eaten.

Jeses went to his father Josus, who was Josus of Garicea, one day and asked if he could take his inheritance in cash and traveller’s cheques. Josus broke down and wept at this apparent lack of concern for the share price of his beloved farm. He agreed to pay out Jeses, on the condition that he signed a release form, waiving all rights to prodigal returns and forfeiting 10% of the value of said inheritance, which would be added to the inheritance of his younger brother Jusus.

With his inheritance, some oranges and cashews in a little dilly bag and a new pair of sandals, Jeses set out for the Holy Lands. His mother, Mary Magdalevna, waved him good-bye with tears in her eyes. It was an emotional moment for her. A toothless old soothsayer had prophesied at his birth, that Jeses would travel to the ends of the earth and become a great prophet. Now he was off to the holy lands on an empty stomach. To make it worse, Mary Magdalevna had had a dream that Jeses had returned home, riding a donkey. The dream made her sore afraid. In Garicea, only tax collectors rode donkeys.

Jeses travelled until he reached a wide, brown river, which was apparently flowing upside down. There were a lot of brown people bathing in the river. One in particular, a great brawny fellow with a beard was dunking everyone else and they were coming up crying.

‘Hey, you great oaf!’ cried Jeses. ‘Leave those poor people alone!’

‘Peace brother,’ said the great brawny fellow, holding his hand out and pointing his knuckles with only the little finger and thumb protruding. ‘Keep it real!’

The dripping people all around him began to call out ‘Yoh, verily!’ They began to sing in chorus, swaying from side to side in the water: Woh oh, we shall be as one, one day.

And Jeses was bemazed. He walked into the water and was embraced by the big brawny fellow who then cuffed him playfully making his ears ring and then pushed him under the water. When Jeses came up spluttering, the big brawny fellow said ‘I am John the Mechanic and I baptise you in the name of the Lord.’

~

Of all the spiritual arts Fakir Rooney had studied at the Haree Karee Ashram in Rishimesh, he had only excelled in Spiritual Economics (the science of living by God’s abundance). The finer points of ethics, self discipline, altruism and desirelessness were all lost on the Fakir. He had almost no understanding of karma and imagined he would attain nirvana when his income reached six figure levels.

The elephunt rides did very well. The Chief was more than happy with the stimulating effect on his burger business. But Fakir Rooney soon realised it would take a lot of four dollar rides to get to easy street, especially with the cost of elephunt food. He decided to teach the elephunt a new trick. Picking pockets. And handbags. And rucksacks. And even little girl’s purses. Fakir Rooney had no scruples. He didn’t teach the elephunt any either.

The Fakir took to delivering commentaries as a means of diverting people’s attention from the big grey nose pipe that was plucking their valuables.

‘And over here on the left, we have Old Rang’s cave which was once a train tunnel in the early nineteen fifties. In front of the cave sits the inscrutable Old Rang ... that’s him scratching his groin ... who practises the zen art of knowing everything by knowing nothing. Down there in the valley is the Nottle Village, populated by the most superstitious tribe in the universe who believe that Old Rang makes the sunrise with his yodelling and consequently feel impelled to wake him every morning by dropping a bucket outside his cave. Directly in front of us is The Little Burger House At the Crossroads of the Universe, owned by the Chief of the Nottle tribe, which goes to show that superstitious tribespeople aren’t stupid and being superstitious doesn’t prevent you from having good business sense. Your elephunt ticket entitles you to a free small fries with every two family packs purchased on the same day ... not redeemable at the same time as any other vouchers, discounts or promotional offers. And that brings us to the end of the ride. You can see the edge of the time warp from here. It looks just like a harmless line of nimbus cloud across the sky. I am happy to oblige anyone wanting to purchase these cute little I rode an elephunt badges, or the tee shirts in four different sizes. Have a nice day.’

The Fakir smiled as his customers alighted from the elephunt feeling strangely bemused ... and without realising it, bereft. Once around the corner, the elephunt would empty all the money and jewellery into the Fakir’s kit bag.

~

God was sitting drumming His fingers on the table. He had seen it all before in His creative visualisation sessions. He sighed. JESES The name had a certain ring to it. But a Messiah should be called something noble, like Eric or Howard.

Little do people realise, especially the ones who have studied religion that God actually makes it up as He goes. And people are so unpredictable. Especially potential Messiahs. Most of them don’t even want to be one. AT LEAST HE LOOKS AUTHENTIC.

~

Jeses certainly didn’t feel authentic.

‘You don’t have any choice,’ John the Mechanic was telling him. ‘You’re the Anointed One. I should know. I anointed you.’

‘Who gives you the right to go