Adam Ash

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Wednesday, March 15, 2006

JESUS NATION SEX REBEL, mini-chapter 24


Adam knew he had to call Joshua Grant. He could not embarrass the CEO of Sunday Fox Media by having lunch with him when he had been moved from Approved to Suspect Status.

He asked Mrs. Veldt to get Mr. Grant.

“Yes, Adam?” Joshua Grant was his effusive self.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to take up your offer, sir.”

“Why not?”

“I stand accused of a treasonable offence.”

“One of those, hey?” Joshua Grant did not sound very disturbed. “What happened? What are you accused of?”

“I’m accused of saying it’s a good thing to defend one’s civil liberties.”

“Did you say that?”


“Did you say anything like that?”

“I was talking about the bonobos, a type of baboon. When a male bonobo does something nasty to a female, her friends get together and they beat the male up to make him behave. So I made a joke, and I said it looks like the female bonobos know how to defend their civil liberties. A student asked me if I thought it was a good thing to defend your civil liberties, and I said for female bonobos it was a good thing to defend your civil liberties. I meant it as satire.”

“Hmm. A dangerous joke. Will there be a Patriot Board meeting?”


“Who is in charge of your Board?”

Adam gave Joshua Grant the name of Doctor Proctor.

“Good. Don’t worry. We can’t have a silly accusation get in the way of an important TV show. I’ve had you checked out. I know you’re a sound man. You seem to play a little fast and loose with women, though.”

Adam cringed inside. So someone had investigated his trolling of dating websites. The eyes of God were everywhere.

Joshua Grant chuckled. “Hey, I was like that at your age. Females are God’s blessing for man’s travails.”

“I’ll be a little more circumspect in future.”

“Don’t sweat it, Adam. I can’t say I’ve ever risen beyond the temptation of women myself. We’ll see about your Patriot Board problem. Sometimes people get accused over absolute nonsense. It’s not as if you made a joke about Pat Robertson’s penis.”

Joshua Grant was referring to the controversy about the famous evangelist, Pat Robertson, whose death was surrounded by rumors, the most frivolous one being that he had died in a bordello, where his corpse was robbed of its penis. There were accusations of libel and now there was a court case.

Adam put the phone down. He went to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror, past the slogan on it.


He walked around the block. He picked up a newspaper. “Child Witness: I was a Sacrifice to the Devil.” The country was transfixed by the horrifying testimony of a five-year-old child, dubbed the Golden Child by the tabloids, who revealed the most disgusting events in a sweet, innocent voice. Adam went back to the office. He read the story. The Golden Child talked at length about kitchen implements inserted into orifices. It had a certain crude power. He saw a review of a very successful new TV reality series. A Saint in the Land of Sinners. The premise of the series was simple: an American Christian went to live in secular Canada, just across the border. The series followed the Christian’s turbulent life there, as he constantly had to fend off all the terrible sinning in Canada to remain a pure Christian -- and as he valiantly tried to convert Canadian women to Christ, when all they wanted to do was seduce this good-looking American into partying all night and having decadent sex. Another hit from Ezra Productions. Adam turned the page and his eye caught a smaller story in a box. The entire reporting staff of The New York Times had been arrested. The Attorney-General commented that “this is a wakeup call to all our media, for them to cease their irresponsible, slandering investigations into matters of national security, and to desist from insolent, treasonous questioning of prudent government action, and to take their patriotic duty to our national mission very seriously henceforth.”

There was a knock on the door. It was the Dean.

“May I come in?” Doc Proc looked very nervous. “I’ve come here to apologize.”

Adam sat back. “What about?”

“The silly accusation against you. There will be no investigation. A Patriot Unit was here. The student has been arrested. Please accept my formal apology.”

Power, Adam thought. What an amazing thing. It could reverse a man’s fate just like that. He felt like a drowned man plucked from a raging, bottomless sea.

“I accept your apology,” he said, saying it slowly. He watched the Dean squirm. Was the Dean worth hating? Yes, he was.

“Doctor White, I will submit your name to the Board for a raise. You do good work here.”

“Thank you. Not to put too fine a point on it, but how big a raise are we talking about?”

The Dean nearly gasped at the effrontery of the question, but fear made him swallow his pride.

“It will be significant.”

“I will be the judge of that.” You bastard, don’t mess with me.

“You are one of our stars,” the Dean squeaked.

“Very observant of you, Proctor.” Why call him Dean or doctor?

“You are a great asset to our university.”

Adam wondered whether he needed to be gracious.

“And now that you’re going to be on TV, the publicity will help us with our donors.”

Why be gracious? Outright contempt would do fine. The man was practically on his knees.

“I trust I won’t see a repetition of this morning’s inordinate mishap,” Adam said. “I may not be able to hold off the dogs next time.”

Ten minutes ago this man was going to destroy him. Now he was in fear of being destroyed. It felt good to be feared, Adam thought. A minor but appreciated recompense for my unfulfilled rage for revenge. You watch out Proctor. I’m in the mood to crush you. You put the fear of death in me. Now it’s my turn.


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