Far and away from the big city, the glorious and frankly old as sand, Cairo–
with its omnipresent smog, and the cacophony of its two-hundred-something million people, with its skyscrapers reaching so high into the sky they were practically scratching gods' asses, like nails do the butt of a yogi master–
Vitto Carnellius, the humble servant of God (forty-two, which forty was the new twenty), was making his way across the blessed desert, accompanied by his–
God bless him–
boyfriend, David.
It was on camel backs the two were crossing the desert, in hopes it'd be inconspicuous, and cheap. Which it was both. But also, it was a pain in the ass. Vitto's balls hurt no matter how he placed them in that god-awful saddle. And he shouldn't have been thinking about his balls. It was the last thing he should have been thinking.
There were other things, after all, things that were more important, greater things, much…much greater. Things that mattered. But as much as it pained him to admit it, his balls also mattered, to him. And having ridden for three hours straight now he couldn't think much of anything else. Did he have to travel by camel, at the end of the twenty-second century, for God's sake, whilst his peers spread God's word to the end of the galaxy (and back) by spaceship? Yes, if that was what it came down to. And it did! Because at the end of the day, there wasn't anything more important than this. Not a single damn thing. Not even his balls.
His mission was to save the galaxy, after all. Not by some spreading of God's word bullshit. No! He needed to really save it. Because according to his sources, and he had good sources on this, it was all going to Hades soon, the universe and whatnot. Unless, of course, he, Vitto, saved it. Even though the universe was busting his balls right now.
"Vitto, wait!" David shouted after him.
He too was having trouble with his camel, though the problem wasn't with the balls. The hunched-back animal was just not cooperative. Ill-tempered is what it was. And though David had dealt many a time with bad tempers in his life, Vitto himself being the most prominent example, as far as camels go, this was his first.
Vitto heard his boyfriend's screams, of course, loud and clear. Didn't mean though he was going to even consider stopping to help him. Whatever David had ridden before seemed to enjoy the ride. Personally, Vitto could vouch for that. But apparently not this time. This time David looked ridiculous up there in his saddle, trying unsuccessfully to man the animal, no clue what he was doing too. The camel just wouldn't go straight. It was only going sideways for some reason, as if it was broken, which Vitto didn't think it was. And so the chiseled-faced Greek statue David was caught red-handed at the moment looking his worst, one of those rare instances he didn't look picture-perfect. Watching him embarrass himself was a lot of fun, and Vitto intended to savor it. If only his modeling agents could see him now, getting sand-blasted in the face like that, his eyes all red and watering, the top three buttons of his shirt undone–
his heated body exposed to the scorching sun, glistening–
Damn it, he was still doing it even now! He was being perfect. How did he even do that, Vitto wondered. He never met anyone this good-looking before in his life, it was ridiculous.
He raced his camel forward, frustrated with himself, as fast as the old nag would go, balls or no balls. Watching David struggle with his camel was no longer fun. He needed a break from this. He needed to remove himself from temptation named David, perfect as he was, because his mission was actually supposed to come first. He was a priest, for God's sake, not a saint!
And the boy was half his age too. And drop-dead gorgeous. Around him, Vitto felt giddy like a sixteen-year-old all the time. And he oftentimes acted the part too, whenever he was near David. He never thought at forty-two he would still feel that way. Itching like an animal, insatiable, ravenous, dirty. He couldn't get enough of it. He always thought better of himself but here he was, his dick now the center of his goddamn universe. And David–the only one, it seemed, who had the talent to handle it.
"Get your head out of the gutter, Vitto, and focus on the task at hand right now. Right this minute!" he grumbled at himself, sternly. The boy could have been his son, for all he knew, with the twenty years of age difference. It was obscene thinking about him like that, the things he had been thinking, even for someone who wasn't a priest, but for a man of faith especially. He knew that. And yet he couldn't quite stop himself. He didn't have any biological children of his own, so he knew for a fact he and David weren't related, age gap or no age gap. And whatever paternal feelings he had for him, he wanted to fuck him all the same. And his dick wouldn't let him forget about it.
But it didn't matter! David didn't matter. Whatever ambiguous feelings he had for him, didn't matter. And his balls, aching as they were, mattered least of all. He was a man on a mission now, and that was what truly mattered. Above all. It was an important mission too. The most important maybe. He was going to save the world, even if it killed him. That was what he told himself. It was a shitty world. But it was worth saving nonetheless.
After all, if the world were to end, so would Vitto and even David, and together with them all the things he still loved in the world, and there were a great many. His dick, for one. He was enjoying that. Now more than he had ever before that he'd finally found someone like David. There were other things too, things that made life worth living. As simple as good food, money, his career, and the prospect of maybe starting a real family one day. His newly discovered piety too. Or technically rediscovered. Because it took him a long time, and it was way overdue, but he was wearing his father's vestments again, now didn't he? That was something that gave his life a new meaning. Who knew that in his forties he would finally come to enjoy life? If someone told him that before he simply wouldn't believe it. But he did enjoy life now. Honest to God, he did.
He didn't want it to end. That was for certain.
Even the darn camel ride he swore he enjoyed, minus the aching balls, so long as he was better at it than David. And David was better than him in so many ways, most importantly–his age. Which was probably the reason Vitto was so competitive. The way he treated the boy sometimes was plain mean but he could hardly help himself. He didn't even know why David stuck around. His money, he guessed. But deep inside he knew it was way more than money. Love maybe? Would he even dare to admit it was love? Whatever it was, if he was sometimes rough on David, David probably deserved it. And, God knows, he was young enough to take it rough.
"Hurry up, David! You wouldn't want to get lost in the desert," he shouted back at him, without even turning to look. And then quickly added under his breath, "You'd never survive on your own."
The two had a rather dysfunctional relationship, granted, he and David. Yet, somehow, after five years of their quasi-marriage, it still worked.
The sky was blueberry jam at the top and strawberry yogurt at the horizon by the time they finally reached what they were looking for in the desert, the point of their destination. Thank God, the gods hadn't arrived yet! To make them wait would have been embarrassing. Vitto was glad he and David made it here first, in time, saved them a lot of trouble. And if the gods themselves intended to be late, he intended to let them. They were gods, after all. And gods do what they gotta do.
Thankfully, the site of the pyramid was empty. Hardly anyone ever showed up here. It was all about the pyramids of Giza these days. Well, fuck Giza, Vitto thought! Nothing important really happened in Giza. The tourists were wrong. Led to believe the pyramids of Giza were the big deal, no one ever paid any attention to the small and inconspicuous Black Pyramid. And they should have. Because that was where all the juicy stuff actually happened, aliens and all, the ones Vitto was taught from his childhood to refer to as gods, which in actuality they were just aliens, very old aliens. Thousands of years old, maybe even tens of thousands.
The Black Pyramid was very important. But looking at it now Vitto couldn't help but frown, the state it was in, it was very discouraging. It was a shame it wasn't better-kept. When the Gods came (if they came), they were not going to find it as it once was, as they once left it. Buried in sand nearly halfway it was but a shadow of its former glory. Nearly five thousand years had passed since its heydays, and there was no way in hell after all this time it could have remained untouched. Nothing on Earth could withstand the passage of time like that only to emerge on the other side with impunity. Hopefully though, there was still enough of it left for alien gods to work with.
The pyramid might have failed to weather the storm of time, but so did the ancient order left there to protect it. Both succumbed gradually to deterioration and collapse over time, as the same was true in this world for just about everything. But as long as at least a piece of it was still there, showing above sand like a tree stump, and at least one surviving member of the order was still there by its side to serve and protect it, even as he was in his forties and horny, it was going to be just fine, Vitto was sure of it.
He jumped off the camel and planted himself on the ground firmly.
"Tether the camels, David! We don't want them scampering off into the night when the gods arrive, now don't we?" he said.
He'd seen pictures of the gods' spaceship, and it was big-assed. Frankly, when that thing arrived the camels were not going to be the only ones scared around here. He'd be lucky if he didn't piss himself. David tethered the camels without saying a word back, never fooled by Vitto's morose demeanor. No matter the image he was trying to project, he was still a big ol' softie, Vitto. A momma's boy, even in the absence of an actual mother. His hard-edged façade was just for show. Mostly. Sure he appeared cantankerous sometimes but that was only done in the spirit of his habit of fishing for compliments and emotional support, because even now in his forties he needed it. And David knew that. And he was there to give it to him. He didn't mind. He had it in spades. Besides, come to think of it now, everything else in their relationship, all things considered, was on Vitto.
Having perched awkwardly on a sandstone slab, Vitto was happy he didn't have to sit no more on that gosh-darn camel. God please, anything but the camels! He'd much rather sit on a pineapple, or a porcupine. And the camels were his idea too. He couldn't blame it on David, although he very much wanted to. His balls were sore but he kept his mouth shut about it. May God be his witness he was not going to let David take the blame for it, not this time. Which, for whatever reason, David was always willing to take the blame or at least share it with Vitto. He was perfect for him, after all, for the lack of a better word. And Vitto was glad David was here. Without him, it would have been very different. Though he was never going to let him know about it, of course.
But he truly needed him here, couldn't do without him. Coming here he wasn't even sure what he was looking for. What did he expect to find here even? Part of it was that he thought it was about time he finally manned up and faced his daddy issues, those that'd been pestering him for a while now. He was forty-two, and that thing that had been gnawing at him all this time, that tiny little canker deep in his gut he couldn't fail to identify as the guilt he was carrying for abandoning his ancestral religion. And it wasn't letting Vitto sleep at night, the culpability of it and self-reproach, and he thought now might be the time to address it. The other thing was that he was at the same time still looking for answers and proof that the religion in question wasn't a joke. Because that was what his father ultimately made of it. Coming here, tonight, to a certain degree he intended to find the answer to his question. Or if he wasn't going to be able to find it here, then that in itself would maybe be enough proof that none of it was real. And then maybe his guilt would finally release its claws on his conscience. He was still questioning himself, and his faith. And whether it was all real or not was probably the biggest question. And it was easy to ignore when he was young but now these feelings were getting the hold of him. And maybe he should have come sooner but the important thing was that he was here now. And he intended to face it all, whatever was coming his way, and it was actually not that bad now that right by his side, going with him through it all, he had David.
"Water?" Settling on a stoop next to him, David offered him a water flask. He had disturbed his train of thought inadvertently, but Vitto welcomed the distraction. He was getting all up in his head again, overthinking it. And he needed not to be.
"Not water, David!" he barked. "What are you thinking? There's a bottle of Grappa in my sack."
Being here, in the butt crack of the desert, whether it was all real or not, called for a celebration, he thought. A bottle of pomace Italian brandy would do the trick. That was why he brought it here. David only grinned at that as he dashed for the saddle pack without question. After a long and exhausting day, he too wouldn't mind a glass of something Italian-made. And while he was gone, Vitto found himself looking at the stars again. Only the brightest ones were showing this early in the evening but as the night progressed, he knew, the sky was going to be full of them. There was a time when he and his dad looked at the stars like that, back in the day, in his childhood, when he believed everything his father told him.
Everything was simple back then. Unfortunately, it wasn't now.
It was a different kind of religion Vitto's family professed, and he was always very aware it was different. The religion of his pa's, and his grandpa's, and then many pa-s before them, different to anything the world had known so far. At the heart of it was the secret knowledge the alien gods bestowed upon a small group of humans five thousand years ago, to be written and rewritten through multiple generations, handed over from one to the next, gingerly, delicately, with much care and consideration, until such time the aliens returned back to Earth. Which when they left they promised to return promptly. And though the world around them changed, the members of the order stayed strong, their resolve never faltered. Lips were sealed tight, swords were drawn and guns wielded all to protect the ancient knowledge. And the secret was kept safe, for the longest time. That is until recently.
It was by the turn of the 22nd century that the number of members in the order irreversibly began to dwindle, barely noticeably at first but then quite drastically, and so did their resources, their finances, and then their hope. And by the late 2170s, the order was reduced to exactly two members, which one of them was a forty-five-year-old hapless priest/single dad, and the other–his twelve-year-old spring-chicken son.
For a time Vitto's dad struggled to provide for the both of them, alternating odd jobs, accepting even the elbow-greasiest positions. But when he finally ran out of health, and hope, and there was nothing in their tiny New York apartment left to sell, he turned to his faith instead and did the only thing his weakened brain could conjure up at that moment. Never the most devoted member of the order to begin with, nothing like those who came before, he put on his tawny robe and went with his little alien stories on a public TV, to sermonize and preach to everyone who'd listen. And though it was a cheap satellite TV, and chances of him getting noticed were incredibly slim, against all odds it worked. He got the attention he was looking for, yielding himself the title of a self-proclaimed alien pastor. Wondrously, he reached his first million followers before it was noon, and then ten million before it was Tuesday. His new and improved mass-consumption religion was a runaway hit. And he suddenly found himself rich and powerful.
Surrounded by all sorts of religious nuts, lunatics, and conspiracy theory junkies, he thrived. Suddenly it was like this was what he was always looking for. Dispensing his teaching among his flock, he felt seen, proud, and listened. Some genuinely believe what he had to say. He was revered and venerated as a true saint among others. Some were only there for this golden egg he'd found, a few, but not as many as those who worshipped him. And to a degree, Vitto's father felt like he was fulfilling his mission in that weird twisted way, whatever he thought it was. Otherwise, the knowledge that had been guarded by his predecessors for millennia would have been guarded in vain. Without the people to perpetuate it, it would have soon vanished into oblivion. And he'd found the people to perpetuate it by, at least, now that the order counted millions. But there was something wrong with this picture and he knew it. And he knew that it'd come back to bite him in the ass somehow. And he was right. His worries became prophetic, not his tales. But putting a lid on it before it blew up in his face was too late now. And he didn't wouldn't want to do it anyway. At that point, it was beyond his power.
Having had no experience being a multimillionaire before, he missed all the red flags. The government got involved with the case of this new rapidly spreading religion, or as they'd like to put it the cult. Inconsistencies were found. Vitto's father was charged with tax evasion and fraud. And in just under two years of legal proceedings the whole caboodle was banned universally, the pastor and the congregation, never to be spoken of again. The assets were frozen. Vitto's dad was put into jail.
He was shut down before he ever had the chance or wherewithal to complete his mission, whatever he thought his mission was. Now there was no mission. He lost everything, the money, the followers, and even his son who was sent to a boarding school, to be raised among regular nuns. And Vitto only got a chance to visit his father once before he learned of his untimely demise, just a couple months in, which he was presumed to have succumbed to pneumonia. That was what he was told anyway. Thus, in a matter of a couple of months, every connection Vitto had to his past was severed, and there was no going back to anything because there was nothing left. He had no choice but to start over.
It was ironic that after five thousand years someone like him got the job of saving the future, or trying to save it anyway, for what it was worth. And he felt the weight of it on his shoulders, wondering every day if it was going to crush him like it did his father, or if he was going to be able to find his inner strength somehow and carry on with it until the storm was weathered, and everything was good with the world again. But as long as the storm raged on, he was going to have to accept his fate and find solace in David maybe. Because there was nobody else to do it. It was just him. And, supposedly, if he were to still believe even an ounce of what he was told, he was born for this, just like every man of the order before him.
"Story time!" David chirped happily.
He got back with a bottle of brandy at his side, and in his hands two swanky drinking glasses, Vitto's favorite, which luckily he didn't forget to pack this time, thank God. Under his arm, he held a thick leather-bound volume, a book of sorts, the only thing Vitto had left of his family, aside from his father's vestments, that the government failed to confiscate somehow. Even before going to Egypt, he and David made a habit of reading from the book before going to sleep, and they'd been reading for two months now, quite religiously, thanks to David who was very excited about a book for once in his life. Vitto hung on to it all these years, and he was glad he did now. For as long as he had the book, his family's legacy lived on, or so it seemed like in his head, somehow. And he felt like he carried on with it, the family, and the legacy, and the order, even though he didn't. And it wasn't so much about the book but what it stood for, what he was supposed to stand for, as being a part of it all, even though he still didn't fully believe it. But he was glad he had the book, if anything when he read it, made David listen. And that was something to be grateful for. Because it was hard to get David to listen to anything. But when Vitto read him this book, he listened.
So Vitto read it to him out loud, every night, several pages at a time, and David patiently listened, taking God knows what from it. But learning anything was by all means better than learning nothing, Vitto reckoned. Even though later, when they were done reading, he'd fuck his brains out anyway.
"It's not just some stories, David!" Vitto snarled. "Told you, it was more than that."
But David wasn't listening. He was busy turning the pages.
"Here!" he said, stopping at the page he carefully bookmarked before. He pointed his small child-like index finger at the engraved illustration of one of the secret chambers of the pyramid, barely aware they were sitting on top of it right now. At least, Vitto was fully aware. He wondered, when the alien gods came, if they came, would he be allowed into the secret chambers. He hoped so. He yearned to see it with his own eyes for a long time, since his childhood practically. God knows, he'd seen it a thousand times in the pictures. But right below them right now, that was a real deal.
"Read! Please," David purred. And Vitto, having cleared his throat, started reading.
"Since the beginning of time, there was darkness in the universe, but opposite of it there was also light. Life clung to light, and the warmth of it. Evil, on the other hand, resided forever in shadows. It was from the shadows of the universe that it watched life grow. Unseen, unnoticed, it stayed hidden for a long time, without revealing itself, without making itself known. It watched life flourish and grow without making interference, until one day, at an odd moment, it decided to make itself show. And it began to grow too, rapidly, faster than life had before it, nearly too fast for anything alive to stop it or even escape its grasp. And when it reached life it killed it, eradicated it in its core. And that one time it started to grow for the first time, it killed almost every instance of life in the universe, before it went away to hide in the shadows again. So for the next time it came those that survived reached an understanding they needed to be prepared for its later attacks. And they got busy."
David was looking at the engravings in the book, mesmerized, listening to Vitto. Among everything else on the page, there was a boy. Though he wasn't so much a boy as he was a young man, just on the precipice of his adulthood, sinewy, his muscles and what made a man a man just beginning to show, a bit of fuzz for body hair but a big mane on his head. He was portrayed front and center, naked too. And David couldn't take his eyes off him, and it wasn't just for the penis.
On the top of the page, above him, there was a drawing of a burning skull, so monstrous that it made David uncomfortable, made him want to turn the page, and he would have had if it wasn't for the boy.
"The very existence of life antagonized evil," Vitto continued. "Its sole purpose was presumed to annihilate life, destroy it because it was chaos and life was the opposite of that, its antithesis, its antipode, its contradiction. For millennia life fought evil valiantly and many a time it won. But there were also other times it lost the battle. Many species had succumbed to the power of evil and faded away, many forms of life fell on the battlefield. But the fight was ongoing for a very long time, until one day, at an odd moment, a weapon against evil was found, forged in the workshop of gods with fire, earth, air, and water."
The man-boy on the page was depicted standing on a ring-shaped platform now, among four pedestals carrying each of the four of life's elements, each of them shining with bright light.
"The alien gods engineered a perfect weapon…"
"The Mandasheewans!" David blurted out, mispronouncing it. He couldn't stop himself, he was too excited. And Vitto suppressed the urge to correct him.
"Yes, David. Them," he replied patiently and continued. "From the moment the weapon has been constructed, the gods began raising beacons of hope all across the universe. With their guidance, life everywhere was given a second chance, a new hope for salvation and growth. The gods visited many galaxies before they came here, to Earth. And even though it took them a long time, they did come here eventually, to protect us too, among all others."
"Here?" David asked, surprised. "They were right here?"
Vitto nodded positively. "Yes."
"Earth was the cradle of life in our galaxy. So when they first came, they came here. And they brought the weapon with them. Having harnessed the power of four elements of life, they sealed each into its own individual container. A capsule of sorts. The essence of fire was taken from the brightest star in our galaxy. From the biggest gas giant, they've taken air. The essence of water was taken from the planet with the deepest ocean. And the essence of earth, without having to stray far, they'd taken from here. Turned out, Earth was as good of an earth planet as any."
Vitto smiled at the pun, but his smile faded quickly when he realized David didn't get it. He shook it off and continued.
"The capsules were then sealed and buried deep underground…" he explained, pointing his index finger downward. "To be unearthed five thousand years later, which, give or take a couple of days, it'd been five thousand years today."
David looked at him incredulously. Then he looked back down at the picture.
"If the four elements are the weapon, what does he have to do with anything?" he asked, confused, pointing at the man-boy. Vitto shook his head.
"He's the most important part, David! Didn't you listen to anything? To merge four elements of life together the gods had to create an artificial man. A perfect being. Capable of things beyond what any other man could do, and at the same time surprisingly human. A warrior, in a sense, built to protect us. The fifth element to other four. Adding to them, improving upon them. And together they presented the complete weapon against evil. The young man at the center of the page, that's him, the fifth element."
David's interest was suddenly piqued.
"A man?" he asked, surprised. "They've created a man as weapon?"
Vitto remembered the first time he himself laid eyes on this picture, the fifth element in all his glory, naked too. Couldn't take his eyes off him, he was so beautiful. But at the same time, looking at him felt strange. There was something about the way he was, something in the lines of the drawing maybe, something eerie and unsettling that grasped your soul when you were looking at it too long. It almost made you feel queasy. So no, he wasn't just a mere man, not by a long shot. They'd drawn him as a man, sure. And a very attractive man at that. But he was a weapon, strange as it sounded. And a very powerful weapon too.
"Not a man, David! I said it was an artificial form of life, remember? Not a man but built in the shape of a man. You have to pay attention. It's upsetting me when you're not paying attention, you know."
"Sorry…" David shrugged. "Looks like a man. Cock and all."
Admittedly, he did have a cock. A very proportional, perfectly-sized, easy-on-the-eye cock. But Vitto didn't really like David looking at it. For whatever reason. They were in a committed relationship, after all, however dysfunctional. He wasn't supposed to be looking at another man's cock, even the divine deity's cock, even though Vitto himself was looking.
"Stop looking at his weenie, David! It's a heavenly creature. Like a flesh and blood angel. You are being incredibly blasphemous."
"Sorry," David murmured again, conceding reluctantly. "This is how he's drawn."
"Cherubs are drawn naked too, you know. This is tradition! Doesn't mean you have to stand there looking at their…you know, crotch area," Vitto said, punitively, happy though David wasn't looking at the dick anymore, and continued reading.
"Every five thousand years as evil returns, the Gods do too. And together with them, they bring the only thing that could possibly save us, humans, from evil. The stones are already down in the gut of the pyramid, you see, waiting for them. But the fifth element is still on his way. And when he gets here, he'll complete the weapon," Vitto said. Then he paused to mull it over.
"He's supposed to get here anyway," he said, his brows suddenly knitted in a frown. "It's been five thousand years to date, you see. The gods are bound to return to Earth now. They promised."
A pause hung in the air between them, and then simultaneously they both looked up at the stars.
The sky was clear, and the stars were bright, and beautiful. There was no indication though of the forewarned alien arrival. Zilch. Nada. Nothing.
Vitto and David stayed silent for a little while longer, and then, disturbing the silence as he would, David asked, "Will they?"
"They must," Vitto said. "Otherwise we'll be screwed. The whole world is screwed without the fifth element."
They watched the sky anxiously, locked in an embrace. Little did they know that the gods' spaceship was indeed entering the planet's atmosphere right now, on its way back to Earth, that exact same moment.
They were indeed coming back to rescue humanity, as was promised five thousand years ago, true to their word. Or they so intended.
And they would have had if the ship wasn't suddenly and irrevocably blown to pieces midair, before it was anywhere near landing. And Vitto's fifth element, the very same from the book, was blown straight out of the ship with the sheer force of the explosion and was now free-falling with the debris back to Earth.