Agrandov
24-08-2008, 01:54
Alkra City
Agrandov
His blood ran cold as the shadow passed over him, as a piece of night in the midday sun. He looked up instinctively, and immediately cursed himself for doing so. A few hundred metres was a Strix II observation drone – often referred to as “owls” by the populace – used by the police to monitor sensitive areas such as the capital, borders and the coast. It would have seen his face, he realised, but it was of no consequence. He cast his eyes back down to earth, seeing the clean and modern streets of Alkra city. His throat tightened as he passed through the crowds of busy people, oblivious. His ears burned as a speaker tower chimed in for an hourly broadcast, taking two minutes to run through the headlines of the largest private publications. Advertisements were everywhere, but looking up once more he saw the largest of them all. An airship, tethered to a tower at the Alkra Coliseum, bore the silent messages projected from within. Millions of people were going about their business in the sprawling commercial centre of Alkra City, buying and selling.
But what could these people accomplish, without faith? What did this city mean, without a soul? What was a nation, without God? It was into this corrupt metropolis, this altar to the idols of greed and deception, that he had walked like Christ into the desert. He was making his way to a specific point in the city, a busy area a few minutes’ walk from the centre. The Pagratine; one of the oldest roads in all of Agrandov. Thousands of years ago, ancestors of these empty people would line this road and preach. They would have spread the word with a zeal only competition can inspire, and hundreds would come to seek advice, a conversation, or even entertainment from the preachers who would each try to out-do their neighbours in the scale and audacity of their claims.
The preaching had continued long after the collapse of the Old Empire, though war and disease took their toll on audiences. The religious crowd was drawn to churches, with Christianity quickly dominating due to the patronage of the Alkran elite. The Pagratine had sunk into an age of folklore and obscurity. Then came the renaissance, and it was the churches’ turn to wane. Attendance slipped away as the industrial revolution took hold, and as the dividends of progress mounted religion in Agrandov began to fade once more. The Pagratine was not forgotten by all however, and in 1859 it was the scene of violence as religious protestors campaigned against The Origin of Species and secular counter-protestors reacted. It was then that preaching on the Pagratine was outlawed, in order to prevent further incidents, before unscheduled protests were banned in 1889 because of its proximity to the Imperial Palace.
Over a century later the laws still stood, although there would be little interest anyway. Church and state had been separated with the dissolution of the Imperial government in 1909, and privatised churches were outlawed in 1992 after a secessionist threat in the West of Agrandov, funded by evangelical groups. The aim of the movement was to create a holy state free from the secular influence of The Central State, although the rebellion had been quickly and violently put down. Since then, largely due to regional influences from the Generians, there has been a surge in illegal congregations for worship although the government is secure enough to leave them alone. Outside of the cities, usually in the abandoned mining towns, illegal churches would achieve audiences in the hundreds. Priests would be arrested from time to time, and quickly released as a way of reminding them who held all the cards.
But things were changing, as recently there had been moves towards the secular extreme organised from the very top. Rumour had it that the Emperor was pushing for the abolition of religion on a personal basis; demanding that faith be resigned by those applying for citizenship. Schools were already instructed to bypass religious education of any kind, devoting more time to sciences or sports. Agrandov had one of the highest atheist/agnostic rates in the world, with less than 2% of the population holding firm religious views.
The preacher climbed a few steps, before turning to face the passing crowd along the Pagratine. With a grand gesture, as if motioning to an invisible orchestra, he inhaled deeply. And he began.
“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth,” he declared, and a few people in the crowd stopped walking. They gave him curious looks and cautious signs as most moved on but some remained.
“And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep...” the preacher said, louder now, with a fiery passion that could be heard at either end of the street. The crowd was listening now. He was smiling, basking in the light of the moment.
“...And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters,” he exclaimed with a roar unfit for such a docile passage, but he was close to laughing. The crowd was there, some still cautious, most curious. A few were even cheering him on. He had attracted some more attention however, as he could see, at the south end of the Pagratine two policemen were walking hurriedly towards him. He gesticulated wildly, laughing with some members of the crowd. The policemen were closing in, one of them was moving to draw his weapon. The preacher unzipped his brown jacket to reveal a vest of metal cannisters, and in the same motion produced a small black device. The laughter stopped. Silence.
“And God said, Let there be light.”
Agrandov
His blood ran cold as the shadow passed over him, as a piece of night in the midday sun. He looked up instinctively, and immediately cursed himself for doing so. A few hundred metres was a Strix II observation drone – often referred to as “owls” by the populace – used by the police to monitor sensitive areas such as the capital, borders and the coast. It would have seen his face, he realised, but it was of no consequence. He cast his eyes back down to earth, seeing the clean and modern streets of Alkra city. His throat tightened as he passed through the crowds of busy people, oblivious. His ears burned as a speaker tower chimed in for an hourly broadcast, taking two minutes to run through the headlines of the largest private publications. Advertisements were everywhere, but looking up once more he saw the largest of them all. An airship, tethered to a tower at the Alkra Coliseum, bore the silent messages projected from within. Millions of people were going about their business in the sprawling commercial centre of Alkra City, buying and selling.
But what could these people accomplish, without faith? What did this city mean, without a soul? What was a nation, without God? It was into this corrupt metropolis, this altar to the idols of greed and deception, that he had walked like Christ into the desert. He was making his way to a specific point in the city, a busy area a few minutes’ walk from the centre. The Pagratine; one of the oldest roads in all of Agrandov. Thousands of years ago, ancestors of these empty people would line this road and preach. They would have spread the word with a zeal only competition can inspire, and hundreds would come to seek advice, a conversation, or even entertainment from the preachers who would each try to out-do their neighbours in the scale and audacity of their claims.
The preaching had continued long after the collapse of the Old Empire, though war and disease took their toll on audiences. The religious crowd was drawn to churches, with Christianity quickly dominating due to the patronage of the Alkran elite. The Pagratine had sunk into an age of folklore and obscurity. Then came the renaissance, and it was the churches’ turn to wane. Attendance slipped away as the industrial revolution took hold, and as the dividends of progress mounted religion in Agrandov began to fade once more. The Pagratine was not forgotten by all however, and in 1859 it was the scene of violence as religious protestors campaigned against The Origin of Species and secular counter-protestors reacted. It was then that preaching on the Pagratine was outlawed, in order to prevent further incidents, before unscheduled protests were banned in 1889 because of its proximity to the Imperial Palace.
Over a century later the laws still stood, although there would be little interest anyway. Church and state had been separated with the dissolution of the Imperial government in 1909, and privatised churches were outlawed in 1992 after a secessionist threat in the West of Agrandov, funded by evangelical groups. The aim of the movement was to create a holy state free from the secular influence of The Central State, although the rebellion had been quickly and violently put down. Since then, largely due to regional influences from the Generians, there has been a surge in illegal congregations for worship although the government is secure enough to leave them alone. Outside of the cities, usually in the abandoned mining towns, illegal churches would achieve audiences in the hundreds. Priests would be arrested from time to time, and quickly released as a way of reminding them who held all the cards.
But things were changing, as recently there had been moves towards the secular extreme organised from the very top. Rumour had it that the Emperor was pushing for the abolition of religion on a personal basis; demanding that faith be resigned by those applying for citizenship. Schools were already instructed to bypass religious education of any kind, devoting more time to sciences or sports. Agrandov had one of the highest atheist/agnostic rates in the world, with less than 2% of the population holding firm religious views.
The preacher climbed a few steps, before turning to face the passing crowd along the Pagratine. With a grand gesture, as if motioning to an invisible orchestra, he inhaled deeply. And he began.
“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth,” he declared, and a few people in the crowd stopped walking. They gave him curious looks and cautious signs as most moved on but some remained.
“And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep...” the preacher said, louder now, with a fiery passion that could be heard at either end of the street. The crowd was listening now. He was smiling, basking in the light of the moment.
“...And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters,” he exclaimed with a roar unfit for such a docile passage, but he was close to laughing. The crowd was there, some still cautious, most curious. A few were even cheering him on. He had attracted some more attention however, as he could see, at the south end of the Pagratine two policemen were walking hurriedly towards him. He gesticulated wildly, laughing with some members of the crowd. The policemen were closing in, one of them was moving to draw his weapon. The preacher unzipped his brown jacket to reveal a vest of metal cannisters, and in the same motion produced a small black device. The laughter stopped. Silence.
“And God said, Let there be light.”