Poking God's Eye: Immortal Blood, #3

By Alan Kern

Who doesn't have questions about the bizarro new world of chaos and madness we've suddenly been thrust into, and what are the origins of this global mental and spiritual meltdown? How did the terms "transgender" and "transhuman" make it so smoothly into our collective consciousness? And what do the terms "medical emergency," "digital currency," "climate change," and the "Jan.6 'insurrection'" all have in common other than using up too many quotation marks?  And further, will Oliver's voice-change give him the boldness to win Heidi's heart? In this 320-page third installment of the "Immortal Blood" trilogy, Poking God's Eye. we go right to the sow's teat on these and more of your questions by time traveling you to the Ravensbruck Nazi concentration camp, to a Grand Kahuna-led hippie commune called the Apostolic Family of Light and Wisdom, to why a discredited pathologist, who had a fondness for blueberry muffins, was banned from Twitter, imprisoned on Facebook, and put on Homeland Security's Top 15 watchlist. And, as a bonus, we'll discover why a newlywed couple's honeymoon got interrupted by a futuristic time travel into the Apocalypse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan Kern
• Release date: Aug 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223753865

Alan Kern

Alan Kern was a Full Gospel pastor and missionary in Canada and South Africa for over thirty years. While pioneering churches in Canada, he became acquainted with the excesses of the “Toronto Blessing” movement. Invited to preach on the subject in North Battleford, Saskatchewan, home of the 1950s Latter Rain phenomenon, he interviewed several of its elderly, disillusioned former members as a part of his extensive research into this movement. Later, sent as a missionary to post-apartheid South Africa, he and his family established a tent church in the Port Elizabeth township of Zwide, during the Mandela transition years. Having personally experienced an uncontrollable “laughing” manifestation in a Cape Town church, he also witnessed first-hand the harmful effects on congregations seduced into the “holy laughter” movement. During his eight years of ministry in Port Elizabeth, he also hosted the live, radio talk show, Talk Back, which highlighted the dangers of the rapidly growing River Movement. When Elephants Fight is his first novel in a planned trilogy, exploring spiritual abuse and the challenges to overcome its devastating consequences. The author spent thirty years in a heavy-shepherding, legalistic church organization. Later, he became a substance abuse counselor for a Gospel rescue mission. Now, retired from active ministry, he lives with his beautiful wife Laurie in Oregon, while they explore the Caribbean as often as possible.  He is currently penning a sequel entitled, Towards a Crouching Lion. A third book: A Monkey’s Beauty Contest will complete the trilogy.

Book preview

REWARMING

The wrongs which we seek to condemn and punish have been so calculated,

so malignant, and so devastating that civilization cannot tolerate their being ignored

because it cannot survive their being repeated.

—Chief prosecutor Robert Jackson, Nuremberg trials, Dec. 1946

Heidi Thorvaldsson sat on a bench in a drab, soulless, brick barracks. Its walls were lined with shelves, three-tiered high, that served as bunkbeds. She rested her feet, that were stuffed into under-sized work boots, on the hardened earth floor. It was winter cold, and there was no insolation, and the straw stuffing used for bedding was wet and infested with lice. They slept on paper mattresses filled with slivers of wood called wood wool. The roof leaked and black mold covered the icy walls. A pack of rats squealed over a scrap of rotted food at the far end near the entrance. The rank odor of two-thousand women crammed into a building made for less than three-hundred, and the fetid stench of rotting corpses seeping in on the wind through four-inch breaches in the walls permeated their already squalid conditions.

She looked down the long row of bunks, where women with matted hair, bony bodies, and hungry eyes stared straight ahead at nothing. She was clothed like all the others, in an ill-fitted striped dress, stenciled with a five-digit identification badge, a sharp contrast to the cutoff shorts and yellow pullover hoodie she last remembered wearing. Her braided blonde hair had been clipped short, spiked up as if back in the streets of Portland. A crudely fashioned red triangle was stitched onto the breast pocket of her dress, signifying that she was a political prisoner.

She stood and looked out through the steel bars of a film-covered window. The winter cold had yet to produce the first snowfall, so she could still see the perfectly manicured lawns and rows of colorful flowers lining both sides of a wide road until out of sight. There were zoo-size cages filled with peacocks and climbing monkeys and a parrot repeatedly screaming what sounded like Mama.

Such were the idyllic sights out the window until she saw the machine-gun watchtowers on top of the double concrete walls, against a backdrop of a smoke-filled sky veiled with the stench of cremated bodies. She saw a horse-drawn wooden cart piled high with naked, emaciated bodies—arms and legs hanging over the sides, their eyes wide open as if asking why, while the other corpses were being bulldozed into a large ditch. At the entrance to the camp, a black, Gothic-style sign hung out over the road as if it was advertising for Halloween. Even from the back side, where the letters were inverted, she could read the word Ravensbruck.

She shuffled back to the bench, sat down, stifled a scream, and then jumped back up. This is crazy. I know I’m dreaming, she said, mostly to herself as she quickly rescanned her surroundings. But then I don’t remember hearing my own voice in a dream, she said, loud enough to be overheard by a few others. They gave her a sympathetic look that said, It’s a shame that such a young girl has lost her mind already.  However, one of the women’s expressions said, I could probably get her piece of black bread when she’s not looking.

A woman who looked in her thirties, who was probably not more than a teen, walked over, pulled her down beside her on the bunk, and spoke comforting words to her in German. That’s when she realized she was also speaking German, so I will translate as we go.

You are so young like me. Where do you come from? the girl asked, wearing a black triangle on her striped dress and with the soles of her tattered workman’s boots flapping like a barking dog. Her brown eyes were large, like she was always marveling about something, which Heidi soon realized was the look of starvation. She tied a red scarf around her forehead, not reconciled to the fact that her long brown hair had been cropped off. 

What are we doing here? Heidi asked, tugging on the girl’s arm. Where am I?

The girl touched Heidi’s red triangle. It is for your politics. You are a resister.

Resister to what?

You know, the same as me, the girl said, touching her own triangle. All of us, she said, looking around. We are the ‘undesirables.’ We refused to salute the Fuhrer.

Heidi didn’t need to speak; her expression clearly said she was confused and starting to be alarmed, and by the time she spoke, a look of panic had set in. Am I supposed to believe I’m in a Nazi concentration camp? When no one responded, she added, I can’t stay here.

An older woman, wearing a yellow Star of David and bearing a countenance of someone who’d only seen tragedy in their lives, sat down to Heidi’s left. Her face appeared as if out of nowhere, with the mournful eyes of a soulful dog and a prominent, puffed-up nose that turned up at the tip like an empty hook. She touched Heidi’s arm and then clasped her head in her hands and said, Dear soul, are you not right in the head?

When Heidi didn’t respond, she added, Dearie, you must learn to adjust to this place. There is no getting out unless you die, or we are rescued.

I can’t stay here. I don’t belong here, she screamed. I’m from Oregon. When she only got empty stares for a response, she added, I’m an American.

American? the two women said at once. How is this possible that you are in this place? the hooked-nosed woman said. We were hoping they were coming to rescue us. Have they been defeated too?

Heidi, more confused with each exchange, searched for an answer that never came. What do we do here? she finally asked to anyone who would answer her.

We all have our jobs to do, the girl said.  Most of us, if we’re able, work in the fields digging up turnips and potatoes. Some of them dig along the road for the new autobahn.

I sew uniforms for the soldiers, the old woman said with a wry smile. We sew socks for them and make the heals and toes thin, so they’ll wear out and damage their feet. We can all do something.

What do you do here? Heidi asked the young girl, who wasn’t giving her name.

They think that I’m a lesbian.

Are you? I mean, it’s none of my business.

No, that’s just what they say when they think someone is anti-social because I wasn’t participating in the community life. Then, they said I must be a Jehovah’s Witness.

They think you’re a lesbian Jehovah’s Witness?

She smiled and almost laughed. They say we are all mentally ill. You know, in the head. I’m called a ‘rabbit’ because I volunteered to be a part of their experiments.

What kind of experiments?

I’m not supposed to be talking about it, she said, looking around.

Don’t worry about me, the old woman said. We all have our secrets in this place. It’s what keeps us going.

They are experimenting how to stop women from having babies, the young girl said.

Why would they want to do that?

I didn’t ask. But I believe they think we got too many people for them to control.

What’s in it for you to do these experiments? Heidi asked.

Because then they said they would set me free.

But you are still here, the old woman said, touching her arm. You cannot believe their lies. They will just use you, and then when you’re no longer useful, they’ll do away with you. You’ll die in this place, just like the rest of us.

They do experiments on people? Heidi asked. Like they’re some kind of lab rat?

Oh yes. Sometimes they put diseases in you like the pox just to see what it will do. Or what they did with Hilda, the old woman said, looking around. She said they cut into her leg and put in gangrene.

Why would they do that? Heidi asked, with a look that said she didn’t actually want the answer.

So they could see how the gangrene spreads in the body. 

And sometimes the women never come back, the young woman said. But we’re not to discuss these things—they are military secrets.

A female SS guard was standing at the far end of the barracks reading off a list of names. Gertrude Heinkel. Maryann Rosenberg.

What is she doing? Heidi asked.

These women must become a part of their experiments.

Gwendolyn Dentz. Rachel Friedenberg.

What will they have to do?

They don’t tell you before you go. They’re rabbits like me. Sometimes they call us ‘prostitutes,’ but that’s just to humiliate us.

Rebecca Heller. Heidi Thorvaldsson. Tamar Kersh.

That’s me, Heidi said. What am I supposed to do?

You must line up with those others at the front, the young girl said.

You mean we don’t have a choice?

You Americans. Always talking about choices, the old woman said. You are not living in that world anymore.

What if I refuse?

The two women stared at her with looks that didn’t need words. Finally, the younger one, who was still refusing to give up her name said, Yes, you can refuse. But then they will shoot you. 

The old hooked-nosed woman took Heidi by the arm. Come on, dearie. I’ll walk up with you.

*

The teenaged boy’s skeletal figure was clearly visible through his bleached, pasty skin as he was lowered into the wooden tank of icy water in Block Number Five. His eyes were large, sunken, and vacant, as if he’d long given up on better days. A Galvanometer attached through the young man’s stomach registered his decreasing body temperature, as he sat motionless with small chunks of ice floating around his neck. He was still conscious—freezing narcosis had not yet set in. More ice was added until the temperature reached twenty-five degrees, causing the emasculated male to finally lose consciousness.

Doctor Kurt Heissmeyer was already famous for his experiments on children—he preferred them five to twelve-years of age. He injected live tuberculosis cells directly into their veins and lungs to test their resistance. Now, his medical team was doing research on the limits of human freezing, experiments for the German Air Force on how best to resuscitate pilots after they crashed into the freezing North Atlantic.

We can be quite proud of the progress we’ve made in these successful experiments for the Fuhrer, the doctor said, addressing his new medical team. We haven’t lost a single subject to the freezing water. No, it’s only in warming them too quickly that we have lost some. This is why we have begun utilizing human bodies in the warming process. To this end, we have had female prisoners lie skin-to-skin with these subjects, warming them slowly, and the results have been very encouraging. After our subject has been revived, he said with a leering smile, you can watch him express his gratitude to his female assistant. 

*

She sat on a wooden chair and waited alone in a room without windows or pictures, except for one of Adolph Hitler giving a feverish speech, standing on a long picnic table inside the six thousand seat Hofbraukeller beer tent in Munich. There was a veiled light just above his head, giving him the appearance of a sainted god. But at least the room was warmer than the barracks. She took off her boots and rested her bare feet on the warm floor.

She didn’t have to wait long before a nurse dressed in a white, starched uniform, with a white nurse’s cap, white hosiery, and white shoes that squeaked when she walked, pushed open a metal door and almost smiled as she approached her. The doctor will see you now, she said, with all the emotion of a barrel cactus. The expression on her face said that she was embarrassed about her squeaking shoes, worried that they would make her appear less serious, causing her perhaps to be colder and sterner than she intended. You must take off your clothes and put on this robe, she said, handing her a thin nightshirt. And be quick about it.

Heidi froze in her chair. She wasn’t bothered by the nurse’s squeaking shoes nearly as much as her raised right hand that was poised to strike her if she continued to procrastinate.

If you are going to make this difficult, I warn you, you won’t like the consequences, the nurse said. Here you do what you are told, and you do it quickly. That is the first lesson you must learn.

When Heidi still didn’t move but just stared straight ahead, the nurse whacked her across the face so hard that she toppled to the floor.

Standing over her, she barked louder. What is the matter with you? Do you not understand simple German? Are you ashamed to undress in front of a woman? she sneered. You will have to do worse than that in there, she said, motioning toward the door and smiling as if she enjoyed the thought.

Heidi raised herself to her knees and touched her bruised cheek. It was wet with blood. The nurse hovered over her, scowling, seemingly enjoying the violence, as if exorcizing her own childhood demons. Heidi slowly got back to her feet. She glared at the nurse, a look that said she was overcoming fear with anger. Any thoughts of loving one’s neighbor, forgiving an enemy, or turning the other cheek, would have to wait for another day; she apparently had no desire to have her other cheek bloodied too. Time traveling or dreaming, she may have asked herself, whatever this is, vengeance is clearly mine, and pity the one who tries to stop me.

She bulldozed the white-starched nurse and drove her to the wall. Then, she spun her around and got her in a chokehold. You can tell the doctors in there to let me out of here or you will die, she yelled, tightening her grip around the terrified nurse’s neck.

Hearing the commotion, two doctors and a female SS guard busted into the room. They paused only momentarily, and then the guard and Dr. Heissmeyer rushed the two women from either side, and depending on whose side of the story you believe, either the guard brandished a six-inch steel trench knife and held it to Heidi’s throat until she released the nurse, or Heidi and the nurse escaped together, but they were soon recaptured and they were both executed, or Heidi grabbed the trench knife and fought her way out of the camp and was rescued by Allied soldiers.

Regardless of which version you subscribe to, the author decided to have Heidi subdued, punched a couple times to regain her submission, and dragged into another room, so unfortunately, that’s the narrative I’m forced to go with.

In the examination room, a young man was lying naked on a mattress that sat atop a metal table. His head was shaved, and his skin was pale, translucent like porcelain. He was in the fetal position, facing the wall, and motionless as if dead. Some would say he looked like a captured Martian.

Heidi was forced onto a straight-back wooden chair and was sandwiched between two female SS guards. A smiling Doctor Heissmeyer, obviously amused at Heidi’s escape attempt, and after ordering the others from the room, he leaned down to face her until she looked up and met his eyes. 

That was quite an ambitious escape attempt out there, the doctor said, still smiling. I’m afraid you’ve gotten a wrong impression of us here.

And that dead body lying on the table there is supposed to improve my impression of you? she said. What kind of sickoes are you?

I can see you haven’t been properly informed about what you’re doing here, the doctor said.  You see, you’ve been selected to participate in an experiment that could end this ghastly war. And the Fuhrer himself would be most grateful. And if he is grateful, things could turn out very well for you.

Why would I want to help Adolph Hitler do anything? He’s a monster.

The doctor almost permitted himself to laugh. Ah, you are an American. That is why your understanding is incorrect. You see, the Fuhrer is rebuilding Germany to its proper place in the world. And you could be a part of that new world.

No thank you. Did you bring me here to discuss politics?

This time the doctor did laugh. You Americans like to get right to the subject. I like that.

Just for your information, she said. The Americans are coming and they’re going to kick your ass.

The doctor’s smile faded, and he didn’t seem able to get it back. Well now if this is true, then you are a prophet. But enough of this foolishness. Let us get right to the subject as to why you are here. But first you must take off all your clothes. If you are embarrassed to do so, I can step out of the room. But don’t try anything foolish again. The next time I won’t be so lenient with you.

Heidi stared at the doctor and calculated her chances of jumping him and escaping. At least, that was her expression if I’m reading it correctly. Dismissing that idea, her expression turned to anger and possible profanity, which she struggled to dismiss. She carefully calculated her next words, but while she hesitated, the doctor added, It is really quite a simple thing. You will lie with our subject here, he said, looking down at the unconscious young man, until your body warms him back to life.

Heidi passed over several responses and expressions before she finally said, There’s no way I’m lying down next to this... she said waving her hand in the direction of the curled-up, pale young man. Whatever he is. That’s gross.

I am afraid that is not a good option for you. You will simply be shot. And then, returning to his smile, which by now was more of a sinister one, he added, Unless, of course, you think your American soldiers will rescue you first.

That said, the conversation came to a standstill. The silence was interrupted by someone yelling orders in the outer room and a crash against the wall. Then, the door to the exam room swung open and a high-ranking SS officer, Josef Mengele, entered. Looking at the doctor and Heidi, he demanded to know why the experiment was not proceeding. Not waiting for an answer, he angrily ordered everyone from the room and stared down at Heidi. I understand you are resisting orders.

When Heidi didn’t respond, he pulled out a Luger PO8 handgun and held it against her head. It would be a shame to scatter such a pretty face across this room. A terrible shame indeed. So, if you would like to keep that pretty face, you will now undress and climb up onto that mattress and do as you were told.

Out of ideas and options, she slowly began to comply. Allowed to keep only her undergarments on, she slowly climbed onto the mattress and laid down next to the cold, naked body.

You must warm him, SS officer Mengele commanded. He grabbed the motionless boy and pressed his backside against Heidi’s warm body. She recoiled and tried to make herself small.

I will leave you now, the Hauptsturmfuhrer said. I will give you your privacy. You see, we do have very large, compassionate German hearts, regardless of what you’ve been told about us. But if you try anything funny, this time you will be immediately executed.

SS officer Mengele closed the door, and after a couple of minutes, with Heidi quietly crying, the young man twitched. She screamed. As his body gradually warmed against hers, each cell was slowly reactivated, and he began moving robotically. She screamed again, recoiled, and pulled away.

Come back, the thawing young man said in English, his jaw moving just enough to get out the words.

Heidi jumped further back and almost fell from the mattress.

With great difficulty, as if willing his jaw to move more freely, the young man slowly spoke again. Please, just a little longer until I’m back to normal.

Normal? I don’t think anything about you is ever going to be normal. Did you like fall out of a spaceship?

Still facing the wall, the naked young man pleaded again. Please, I just need a little more warmth to get me right.

Why should I? she said to his back and clutching a sheet to her chest. She looked around at the four bare walls and spotted a peep hole in the door. She thought of expressing herself with a finger salute but quickly pulled it back. They’d probably think I was saluting their dumb Fuhrer, she said to no one.

Because they’ll kill you if you don’t, he said, interrupting her.

Why would you care?

Please. They’re probably watching.

Okay but keep facing the wall.

She inched closer and reluctantly pressed her body against his.

Thank you, he said, slowly rolling over and looking at her. Then, seemingly without giving it much thought and before she could respond, he twisted his head upwards and kissed her.

She jerked back and slapped him. Hey, what do you think you’re ... what?... Oliver? What are you doing here? she screamed.

What happened to your cheek? he said, wiping away some blood with his finger.

We’re lying here in a Nazi concentration camp, and you’re worried about a little blood on my cheek?

The exam door swung open again and General Oswald Pohl strode in, followed by the SS officer and a nurse. Heidi jumped off the mattress, and grabbing her clothes, she sat back down on the chair, clutching her knees to her chest. The general looked down at the young man and then at the SS officer, and then he stared at Heidi. Addressing the officer, he demanded to know what was going on.

Heir General, as you can see, we are conducting an experiment as you have ordered. And look, the experiment has worked. The young man has revived.

The general stared again at Heidi, and then at Oliver, and without looking up he ordered the officer and the nurse from the room. He pulled up a chair and sat facing the terrified young girl. She clutched her striped dress more firmly to her chest. This is not a place for you, he said, kindly, as if apologizing.

Heidi pulled her legs up tighter against her chest and rearranged the dress to cover them.

This is obviously a mistake, he said, looking deeply into her eyes. How is it you volunteered for such an experiment?

I didn’t. I was made to, she said, finding her voice.

This cannot be. There’s been a terrible mistake. You do not qualify for this. You are one of us.

Well, Heil Hitler and all that sh**, she shouted with a mocking hand-salute.

When the general didn’t respond, possibly because he’d never had a teenaged daughter of his own, she added, with a hurt anger. Wait a minute. What do you mean I don’t qualify? How hard can it be to qualify for a Nazi concentration camp experiment?

Because you are a perfect Nordic. Look, you have blonde hair and blue eyes, and your head and body structure correspond to the chosen race. You are a pure Aryan. And this boy, he said, looking at Oliver, who was sitting up on the edge of the bed, is also one of us. You two do not belong in such a place. 

*

She sat atop a picnic table clutching her knees. She was shivering, wearing cutoff shorts and barefoot, with only a yellow hoodie to keep her warm against the misty rain blowing against her face. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was collecting water droplets. She stared straight ahead as if daydreaming, dead still, possibly focused on a slow-moving fishing vessel in the bay, but you’d have to ask her.

Oliver had been watching her. Not that he was spying or stalking. He came around the front of the RV, having just exchanged a propane tank, and there she was, still sitting like a sculpture as if living in another world. True, he did stare, momentarily transfixed by her Nordic beauty, but he wasn’t ashamed; he had noble intentions. He didn’t want to startle her, so he approached slowly. Are you okay? he asked.

She jolted and swung toward him, her dripping hair flying. Ich wusste nich, dass du da bist.

Do dah what? What language was that?

Why, did you think I was speaking in tongues? she said, with that kind of smile that was both sarcastic and teasing. 

Huh?

The language you’re understanding right now, dummy. What’s the matter with you? I said, were you watching me?

Just for a moment, he said, blushing. We were starting to worry about you. Are you alright?

She quickly glanced side to side. Why shouldn’t I be?

Because you’ve been sitting there like forever without moving.

You’ve been here all this time?

Yeah, of course, he said. Where else would I have been?

You weren’t ... I mean ... you don’t remember anything?

Anything about what? he asked. Now, I’m even more worried about you.

You’re worried about me, Oliver?  How sweet.

I never know whether you’re serious or mocking me. Even the narrator’s confused; he’s been fooled by his characters before, so he’s not taking any chances on you.

I think if you went with ‘mocking’ you’d get it right, she said, smiling. At least most of the time.

But then she did something no one saw coming, probably not even her and least of all Oliver, especially in his present state of dreamy befuddlement. She turned and faced him again, this time not embarrassed about wiping away a tear. Without words, she grabbed onto him and held tight. He gratefully hugged back, cradling the back of her blonde head, holding it to his chest. She smelled of something heavenly, like a scent just invented for the moment. He felt the warmth of her body as it conformed and pressed up against his. His serotonin was stirring and his testosterone rising, tightening his chest and shortening his air. The smile of a young man in love. He dared to believe that she felt the same—he sensed it from the beginning.

This would be his moment, he thought, the perfect moment to finally confess how he really felt about her. And he’d been crafting the perfect words for months, which he was quite confident of. So, like a ship breaking free of the harbor, his sails were set to challenge the threatening waters of romance.

Ollie. Mom says she wants you to empty the black water tank, Lucas said, standing just behind his older brother. She said the toilet’s backing up again.

DEATH BY EXPERIMENT

To effectively brainwash and mind control a population you first need fear...the tyrant is best served by being in control of the fear, plus manufacturing the ritual that removes [it]. That pre-manufactured ritual will in turn trick the public into participating in their own enslavement and brings them willingly into the iron grip of the tyrant.

—Jason Christoff

Marvin Fleming Swensson, who everyone just called Marv, including this narrator, was a certified butcher and a small town mom and pop grocery store owner. And so, it might seem that he wasn’t a very interesting character, and you might further wonder why the author has spent so much time on him. And it’s true, in a recent poll, when asked which flavor of ice cream Marv would be, a whopping 82% said vanilla. Less than 2% thought he’d be as fun-loving as mint chocolate chip or even Neapolitan.

But that isn’t to say that Marv didn’t have any admirable characteristics because he had many. He was the hands on type, the first guy you turned to when you needed something fixed but were too poor to hire a professional. He was the kind of true friend that proved helpful in grave situations. The kind that helps build righteous nations and families. He possessed what our fallen culture calls toxic masculinity, toxic to the globalist oligarchs because it directly challenges their brave new world with a righteous masculinity that is difficult to intimidate, manipulate, and control, and that scares the bejesus out of them.

All this because that kind of masculinity was founded on the biblical principles of honesty, faithfulness, self-control, kindness, and above all, a righteous fear of God. Marv didn’t have the righteous fear of God part yet, but he had the others nailed. He was the salt of the earth, a term popularized by Jesus, which meant someone who adds flavor and preservation to life. He was that preserver, one who sustains the idealism of unlocked doors and front porch friendliness.

So, with all that going for him, why did so many people believe he was vanilla? It’s because he was so low-key about everything, never wanting the glory or attention on himself. Whether it was disposing of a cadaver for an innocent friend, or taking a widow’s dog for a walk, or volunteering at the YMCA to clean toilets, he was about remaining in the background if at all possible, sometimes even operating in the dead of night if necessary. And it wasn’t because he was shy; he was congenial enough and genuinely loved people. No, he was wrongly thought of as vanilla because he willingly chose to stay off