The Orchestrator

By J. R. Thomas

The world is a place ready for change. That is what Emily a normal school girl, Tom the company man, Timothy a man of Faith, Jamal the blue-collar everyman, William the militant believer, and Tiara the hopeful naive girl have learned. The world is a place of corruption and loss. The Orchestrator will give them and many more the tools needed to bring their message to the people. They will bring a city to its knees. The streets will be full of anarchy, destruction, and carnage. Black boxes the tool and symbol of participants the spark of Revolution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. R. Thomas
• Release date: Sep 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370896943

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Recruitment

        Around the city people are typing… people are typing their hopes and their fears. They type about their anxieties real and imagined, realized and yet to come. They type about dreams they wish they can have. They type about dreams they wish they could have lived at least once. They type about nightmares they have lived or are living each and every day.

They tell their tales in popular chat sites, support group chat rooms and secret rooms for those not willing to share with anyone or speak about horrors too perverse. They type furiously. No matter their ethnicity, age, social background the same words appear again and again on their screens... power, helpless, purpose, loss, suicide and meaning.

The young and old no matter the gender sit at consoles in their homes, at work, at libraries, on streets and at cafes. They move through the full spectrum of emotions. Lips pursed, eyes shed tears of sadness and relief. Hands move fiercely on keyboards.

Some clenched in determination or anger or both. While other hands shake with anxiety or with excitement. Bodies shrink as if in pain full of doubt and concern or become full with resolve, courage and fortitude.

A hooded figure sits before many screens. On both sides of the figure’s face a black hood blocks the figure’s peripheral view. The figure likes it. It reminds the figure of the dark path that must be taken. From the screens comes the only source of light filling the room.

The hooded figure types in the different chat rooms with ease. The figure has had a great deal of practice multitasking. Multiple private chat windows cover the monitors. The figure speaks with individuals, couples and groups any who will listen are written to. The figure types the same phrase to them. The phrase that brought on the climax of emotions; Let your death have meaning.

       The figure knows the next phase has finally begun. The figure has truly become the Orchestrator. The figure is filled with joy and enthusiasm for what is to come. The events over the next few days will be the Orchestrator’s greatest dark symphony.

"In the beginning… let there be light." – The Orchestrator’s voice modulated.

EMILY

       A teenage girl sits fully dressed on her bed with her back to the bed post. Her knees are pressed to her chest. The covers of the bed are pulled over them. Her arms are crossed on top of her knees with her faced resting on her forearms. Brown hair drapes down over her face.

Her hair covers her red eyes, swollen from tears she cannot stop. No matter how much she has tried. Emily thinks of the words she read in many chats with an unknown person. She could say things online she couldn’t find the strength to say out loud.

She wants to believe she has another way, another choice. But she is afraid. Afraid he is right. Afraid she knows he is correct. Afraid she wants him to be.

She thinks her clothes will act as a barrier… as a shield tonight. The door opens. A shadow forms stretching over her floor to her bed. She looks up. Her eyes fill with despair. The shield will not work. It never has.

       "…Because light can’t shine until the void has stretched as far as it can." – The Orchestrator’s voice modulated.

TOM

       A middle aged white male sits in a minivan. He is an average man, of average height and average looks. Most wouldn’t think twice about Tom when they see him. Even now most wouldn’t find it strange he is sitting in the park at night alone drinking whiskey. He has a timid none threatening presence, he always has.

       But what they don’t know is in his other hand he is holding a vile of poison. He stares at it. His thumb strokes over the label. Tears fall down his face. He blames her. This is all her fault. He has always been loyal. Always been the best he could be. Why is that not enough? It should be enough. He never cared about her affairs.

It doesn’t matter how many men she was with because she always came home to him. He was simply happy to have a woman like her. She made him better. She made him push himself, grasp for goals and dreams he would never have on his own.

He did everything she said but it’s not enough for her to truly love him. It’s not enough. He knows this time it’s different. She found a new man to mold and build. She is going to leave him. She can’t. What would he be without her? What would he be? She can’t leave. She can’t. She can’t!

On the outside it’s a normal suburban home. The home is furnished more to impress, to show off the upper middle class lifestyle. It looks comfortable but the lady of the house could care less about that than the image she wishes to present. Most would see her as a typical soccer mom but Susan has ambitions.

       If she had made better decisions in her youth, if she hadn’t listen to her mother she wouldn’t need to find and build the weak. Then again she does enjoy it. And this new one has so much potential.

He is young but knows how to take direction far better than her husband. Her moans of pleasure are proof of how far he has come in his teachings. To his friends he called her a cougar at first. They loved the idea of this older woman. The things she would know. The things she could sexually teach.

It was only about sex to them, to him. Now he can’t see his life without her and she knows it. On the shaking night stand next to the bed is a picture of Tom, of Susan and their children. Her sounds of pleasure fill the room as the picture falls off the stand.

"When the light comes it will be violent to the darkness." – The Orchestrator’s voice modulated.

DEBORAH

        A well dressed woman in her late twenties walks out of church. She has tears in her eyes and a bible in hand. Deborah’s tears of guilt have become tears of anger. She hears the priest’s judgmental words in her head, melding with her guilt.

She thinks of sitting on the table. Lying back and placing her legs in the metal stirrups. She thinks of how the doctor attempted to make her feel comfortable. Which only annoyed her, she shouldn’t be comfortable with what she was doing.

She remembers thinking she should never have placed herself in such a position. How could she be so careless? How could she be so stupid? How could she allow herself to become a stereotype? How can she be so irresponsible? How could she put herself in this position?

She went to her church directly after. She confessed her sin. Through the veil she could see the priest’s face. His look of shame torments her. She did not come to him for judgment. She had already done it to herself. Deborah is disappointed with him but more so with herself. How can she accept this? How can she accept the doctor’s comfort and her religion’s shame?

"It will be Chaos." – The Orchestrator’s voice modulated.

TIMOTHY

       He wakes up screaming. Screaming about the same thing he has since he was a child. He screams for help, screams for hope, he screams in fear. He looks around his one room housing to be certain he isn’t in the past. He has to be certain he is not back to his childhood.

Not back in that room. Not back in the clutches of that man. Not being told lies he knows are not remotely true. Not trying to convince himself to bare it. Not being forced to do those things. Not having those terrible things done to him. He remembers his nightmares they are his memories. His memories are his nightmares.

He remembers looking up at his eyes, seeing his clerical collar. He always sees the crucifix hanging behind him. He hated feeling him. He hated how he tried to make him feel it was love, God’s love. He stands in a rage. He is tired of always being afraid of the past. He is tired of feeling as if he is still the child he once was.

How can he call himself a man when the fears of a boy plague him? He thinks of the words he read on the library computer. Of the words that have crossed his mind since he seen them in the chat rooms. His anger grows. Timothy looks at the crucifix on the wall. He knocks it off, yelling out in pain. He begins to cry.

These are not the actions of a man. These are not the actions of a man, he repeats the sentence softly over and over again.

"The Light and the Dark will fight each other for supremacy." – The Orchestrator’s voice modulated.

JAMAL

       A large extended family sits in court. They sit with tears and disappointment in their eyes. They can’t believe the verdict they have heard. How can he receive so little time for what he has done? This isn’t right. This isn’t justice. A member of the family stands up yelling and lounging at the defendant.

Jamal is a large