Salem's Witches (Neitherlands Book 1), page 8
After LeFlay was done explaining he called out for some of the church’s more successful members to help with the recruitment conference. Several New Wakilork personalities took to the stage and recounted their stories. Unsurprisingly, all of them were about how Quackology had been an important part of their success in their fields.
And while this happened Veronika listened on, cringing in her seat.
Sarah took a deep breath and entered the visiting area, which looked a lot like the visiting area of a prison and was full of people waiting for a chance to see their loved ones. Wearing a red wig and a thick layer of make-up, she had deemed it impossible for anyone to recognize her. She also wore a scandalous outfit of leather and animal print, along with a huge bag she would ‘accidentally’ bump into anyone and everyone on her path.
She was there to make a scene, all right. She just didn’t want people to recognize the protagonist. After all, the best way to get people to give you what you wanted was making a scene. It worked nine times out of ten.[13]
“Excuse me,” she said, forcing her voice to sound as nasal and squeaky as possible. “I think I’m next for visits.” She saw the line of people, all of whom had arrived way before her. She still approached the counter, because she didn’t care.
The woman at the counter stared at her, unimpressed. She had probably been working there for far too long and seen far too many ridiculous people for a single scandalous woman to move her in any way. She was still in for a treat. “What do you want, missus…?”
“Myren. Miss Myren, I’m not married,” said Sarah.
The woman arched her eyebrows and rolled her eyes in response.
“I’m here to see a dear friend of mine,” she went on, almost shouting. “Would you be so kind to bring her here immediately? This is important stuff we need to discuss.”
“And what would that stuff be?”
“Stop being so nosy, will you?” Sarah fanned herself with her hand. “This tiny room has no ventilation. I can totally see why this place is going to hell, or whatever version of it you believe in. Now, my friend is called Annabella Bostwick. I haven’t seen her in a while, but I heard she was here. Will you bring her over for me?”
The woman stared at Sarah in disbelief. “You seriously asking me to bring Bostwick here?”
“I believe I just did so. Why, is there a problem? Are you not on speaking terms with her or something?”
“Miss Bostwick…has been declared a suppressive person and can’t be contacted by anyone, for her own good. I’m sorry, but you can’t see your…friend.”
“Why this is ridiculous! What is a suppressive person even!”
“It’s somebody who joins our church with the intent of defacing it, or somebody who loses their way and harms the church. Suppressive people are held by the church for their own safety, so we can help them overcome their difficulties. They cannot be seen. Now, miss, I believe you’re asking too many questions. Are you by any means a reporter?”
Sarah felt all eyes on her. She started sweating. “Why would I be a reporter? I just want to see my friend, that’s all,” she said, overdoing it as much as she could. “I can’t believe this, I’m lucky I said no when she told me to join you guys, this is just absurd! I think I’m going to need to ask you to call your superior, for there must be a mistake somewhere here. I’m sure I’m allowed to see her, after all I’m her friend!”
“There are no superiors.”
“So you’re the one running this church, missy? Are you now? Not that I would be impressed if you were. Considering the sorry state this whole place is in, I would say it’s likely you are. I just would find it odd for the head of the church to be in charge of visits, you know? Now please stop…lollygagging and bring someone over who knows anything about this place and has power, because—”
“Will do.” The woman took a deep breath and yelled “Guards!”
Two tall, burly men arrived seconds later. They didn’t seem to hold any real power in the church, but they also didn’t seem nice or the kind of people you’d want to have a row with.
“Oh, will these men help me? I’m glad, I’m glad. Hello, guys!” Sarah waved at them and smiled. Neither of them smiled back. “You see, this woman won’t let me see my, my friend. Bostwick. Can you bring her here?”
The men exchanged stares. “You can’t see her,” said one of them. His voice was deep and emotionless.
“But she’s my friend. What, are you people holding her hostage? Maybe I should summon the press and—”
“She left this morning aboard the Highwind. On a spiritual retreat,” said the other man. “She won’t be back soon.”
“Why, I can’t believe this! I’m sure this is all a lie, I’ll have to summon a reporter to—”
“Miss, I must advize you against summoning the press, or mentioning them again anywhere in this compound. For your own safety. You see, we do care about everyone. We’re even giving you tips on how to better retain your physical well-being.”
“This is absurd!” Sarah did her best to hide her fear, although her shaky legs didn’t help her. She had, after all, heard tales of what happened when people were taken hostage by rogue organizations. She had a hunch this church would do all those things, and even worse. “I guess I’ll have to go, but I’ll come back!” she said, her voice breaking, “I’ll see my friend no matter what, y’all will see!”
As she left the room, once she was sure nobody could see her, she took off her heels and broke into a run, barefoot. If she stayed any longer and the guards decided to chase her, she feared she’d lose a lot more than just her dignity.
The air was thick with expectation as Veronika braced herself for the final act in the horrible sham to which she was a witness. After many figures took to the stage, all of them to say that Quackology had saved them, a group of higher-ups in the church went out and said pretty much the same.
And all of them had hinted at one thing: Quackology was supposed to develop hidden powers in people. Abilities that most thought were magic, or downright impossible, were developed by the good Quackologist who did as his church mandated.
It was only fitting that the introductory meeting would end with somebody displaying said powers. It was what the public wanted: Nothing like smoke and mirrors to display all those amazing things they could become if they gave their everything to the church.
Luckily for them, Antoine LeFlay was ready to deliver. He took to the stage after all the other higher-ups left and only spoke after a long, undeserved round of applause calmed down.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, smiling an evil-looking smile that made Veronika want to hide behind her seat. “I’m here to give you what you have all been waiting for. For it is really easy to talk and promise things but never show them, isn’t it? Haven’t you all at some point believed in deities without getting anything back?”
Several voices in the crowd rose to express their agreement.
“With Quackology, that isn’t going to happen. As long as you all are good quackologists, you’ll get all you’re promised and then some. And in order to show you this I must ask…is anyone here suffering from any incurable, debilitating maladies?”
Several hands went up. Veronika thought of playing a round of ‘guess the planted actor’, but gave up immediately since everyone who raised their hand was an actor. They had to be. In the worst case she could count on whoever LeFlay picked being one for sure.
“How about… you!” LeFlay pointed at one of the raised hands, “Come over, miss! And rejoice, because you’ll soon stop suffering!”
The woman limped all the way to the stage and knelt in front of LeFlay. “What ails you, my friend?” said LeFlay, who had never heard one shouldn’t ask about that which is obvious.
“I fell off a horse as a child, oh great one! And my leg broke. I have since been unable to walk properly, which has rendered me unable to work and forced me to endure endless teasing at the hands of people, many of them religious!”
“As one would expect from lower religions, they mock that which they do not understand and cannot cure.” LeFlay’s voice was emotionless. “But do not fear, for today you’ll come out of here a new woman. From today on, you will walk as anyone else does, and nobody will laugh at you again! In fact…after seeing you, they’ll fear Quackology, for liars always fear the truth!”
LeFlay put his hands on the woman’s head, closed his eyes, and hummed. He did this for the better part of a minute, while the woman remained motionless. “I’m going to need help from the crowd to cure this woman,” he said eventually, “for Xianuu’s curse is too strong and only together can we get rid of it. All of you, everyone, extend your hands toward this woman and help me cure her! All of you, all of you have the power, so join in and help!”
At first, only a few hands rose, but little by little more hands rose, and within less than a minute, what looked like the entire the crowd had their hands extended toward the woman. They all hummed too, because that was what LeFlay was doing and therefore it had to be important.
Veronika also extended her hands, hating herself for keeping up with the charade but recognizing she wouldn’t be much of a spy if she blatantly went against the multitude.
After what felt like hours for Veronika, LeFlay stopped humming. A few seconds of well-timed anticipation passed then he removed his hands from the woman as he yelled “Heal!”
The woman threw herself to the floor where she then shook and twitched in exactly the way healthy, recently healed people don’t. She screamed incoherencies and, it seemed to Veronika, talked in tongues. The show went on, while everyone in the auditorium lowered their hands and stared at the woman, expectantly.
The woman let out a loud, prolonged scream that sounded a lot like she was going through unimaginable pain, then went silent of sudden, her body limp on the stage.
The crowd stared in silence. Veronika, a firm nonbeliever, was sure it was all an act, although a not-quite-small part of her wished the woman had died on stage. That would be quite the welcome for new believers.
Much to Veronika’s chagrin, the woman’s apparent death lasted just enough to get everyone to worry, for eventually she started moving, got up off the floor and, to everyone’s amazement, started walking with no limp whatsoever.
It was a magical, unexpected, truly miraculous moment where a woman nobody knew with an ailment nobody could attest to had been magically cured by suspicious means. The crowd went wild with cheers and praise for Quackology while Veronika stared at the stage in disbelief.
It was exactly what she had expected would happen, of course, but watching it unfold had a way of rendering her aghast at how easy it was to convince people of whatever you wanted to convince them of.
While Veronika felt like leaving the Neitherlands never to return, LeFlay bathed in the praise and let the crowd know it all had happened thanks to their collective power, because each one of them held in themselves the power to cure, among other things. After all, they all were good quackologists, and good quackologists were there to erase suffering from the world.
Within seconds of that statement everyone in the room repeated a collective chant of “We will end suffering!” except for Veronika, who stared aghast at the bizarre scene. On top of that, many of the attendants started laying on hands, blessing each other, and screaming at the spirit of Xianuu, ordering it to leave their bodies for good because they had now joined the true force to destroy him. Some of the more theatrical attendees threw themselves to the floor and twitched just as the woman had, in an apparent competition to see who could get rid of Xianuu’s influence in the flashiest of ways. Confetti fell from the ceiling and onto the public and the stage itself, marking a perfectly ridiculous end to a perfectly ridiculous ceremony.
Veronika sighed, wondering if perhaps she was the one in the wrong: Could it be that there was some truth to it, and she had been the only one in about two thousand people to completely miss the spell?
She laughed it off and felt ashamed of doubting her disbelief even for a minute. And as much as she felt like running away from the place, she braced herself for a second round of crazy: As part of the initiation package, everyone had been invited for a free auditing session with a veteran quackologist. And, even when she had no clue what that session was, she wouldn’t miss it for the world.
After waiting for a while, Veronika was asked to step into the cubicle where her free auditing session was to take place. As she passed in front of the other cubicles, she noticed one thing: Auditing sessions were run by women. It also occurred to her that none of the higher-ups from the church, or at least none of the ones present in the introductory talk, were women.
The church lost the goodwill it had gained with her really fast.[14]
“Will you come in?” said her auditor from inside the cubicle. The one who had just seen her doze off as she was supposed to enter.
Veronika gathered herself, went inside then took a seat. The cubicle was bare except for two chairs and a table with a white cube on top. Said cube hummed and had no discernible features other than a hole.
“What’s your name?” said the woman.
Veronika told her her name. The woman didn’t respond with hers, instead asking to be called auditor.
“In here, we will look into your daily life, current and past, and try to—”
“What’s that thing for?” Veronika pointed at the machine.
“What’s that thing for, auditor. And that’s a z-meter. We use it for—”
“A scimitar?”
“Zee-Meeter.” The auditor didn’t seem amused. “It measures your soul and helps us look for things in your past that may be causing your ailing. Now, if you could be a dear and put your hand in it.”
Veronika hesitated. She didn’t like putting her hands, or any parts of her body, inside of holes—it seemed dangerous. Getting dressed every morning became really complicated once she reached the part with the shoes. Under the scouring stare of the auditor, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and put her hand in.
“Is it in yet?” she said, not daring to open her eyes.
“It is indeed. Any reason for the closed eyes?”
“I…the wind dried them a bit. I’m waiting for tears to replenish and moisturize them.”
Veronika couldn’t see what the woman was doing, but she could hear her writing in her notepad. Probably terrible things about her, including childhood clown-induced-trauma and a high likelihood of becoming a serial killer.
Unable to keep her curiosity at bay, she opened her eyes and tried to peek at the auditor’s notepad. The auditor moved back, gave her a reproachful stare, and wrote some more things about her that probably weren’t good at all.
“Let’s get started. Veronika, please tell me a story about your childhood.”
“What do you mean?” Veronika said, louder than she intended. Nosy questions usually put her on edge. Nosy questions coming from an officer of an evil cult even more so. “A story about—”
“Your childhood. If we’re going to try and make your present better, we need to begin with the past. Will you share a story with us?”
“I grew up in Ussuck,” she said after a small pause. For a moment she felt like telling the woman off, then she thought better: She was, after all supposed to get accepted. Telling the woman off wouldn’t get her accepted. “As you may know, Ussuck is a very different place from New Wakilork. It’s not necessarily better or worse, it’s just…different. Most buildings are taller than here, roads are made out of stone, not out of dirt… This makes most of Ussuck look pretty scary at night. There was this one time, I must have been about five years old. I remember I escaped my home. I had been reading a tale of a little adventurer girl, and I wanted to be her, or like her. So I waited until my parents got distracted and went for the front door.
“It won’t surprise you to learn I got lost. I was but a little girl and rarely left home other than to go to the park down the street or accompany my mother to the market. I also went to a school a few blocks away three times a week, where I was taught to read. Yet this time, none of those places would do. I was an adventurer, and I had to look for adventure. I thought I would find it near the bridge that crossed the river, so off I went, looking for a bridge in a city I knew very little of.”
“What happened then?” The auditor didn’t bother looking at Veronika. She was busy writing and only raised her eyes to stare at the machine that kept humming.
“After walking several blocks, I realized I was lost. I didn’t feel afraid, not yet. I was a strong adventurer and in my books it wasn’t uncommon for an adventurer to get lost here or there. That’s when I ran into a policeman. Now, in Ussuck it’s very easy to identify policemen, and you will find them often. It’s not like here at all in that respect, Ussuck has a strong police force that’s usually present everywhere. In my childish delusion, I decided the policeman had a map and I had to find a way to obtain it. So off I went, to speak with the policeman to try and find a way to nick the map off him.”
“Really? What did you do?”
“I told him this tale about an ogre down by the river who was terrorizing everyone. I remember telling him it was his duty to kill the ogre and bring me its head, for I was placing a contract on it. The policeman, bless his soul, he believed me. Well, I don’t think he bought the part of giving me the ogre’s head, but I came to him all terrified, and I was somewhat terrified because I was lost and trying to lie to a policeman, and I had told him this tale…
“So he took my hand and took me to the river. Only, he didn’t take me to the river, but to The River, a seedy little bar a couple blocks away. He entered with me and asked me who the bad guy was.” Veronika laughed. “I told him it had been all of them, to try and start a tavern brawl that would allow me to steal his map and run away.”
