Patheos

[Marcus DuBois]

Alexandrova Vladislavovna

Office of the Consul on Public Engagement, Propaganda, and Interdominance Relations

Alexandrova smiled slightly as she watched the wave of anger spread outward. Chaos, while an enemy, could also be a tool. People at extremes could be nudged, quite easily. But it took care. Great care. The law of unintended consequences meant that no matter how well they planned, things were never fully in their control. A campfire could turn into a raging inferno.

Mobs were the worst and the best in some ways. Easy to predict. Terrible to control. So despite their power, she preferred individuals or small groups. With them under control, they directed larger groups. Control of the masses, far less volatility.

Still, it was good to get the pulse. What happened at the Kremlin was seeing a repeat here. Crowds of people, from all idealogical extremes, surging like waves against the rocks, crashing, vying for control. The very air seemed to crackle with energy. She eyed the exits. Very likely, this would turn into a riot. She had the appropriate response teams on standby- well not she directly. But she'd made arrangements through one of the others of Nik's inner sphere.

She watched the monitors and a familiar face showed. Her green eyes glittered curiously. Well now. She considered with interest. The American healer, James, seemed torn. The anguish on his face was evident despite the jostling of the camera drones that hovered around like swarms of flies, the AI director switching the feeds as quickly as necessary.

And then she saw it on his face, a second before he errupted, the power bursting forth, a display of majesty and energy that left even her breathless. The streaming fountain of light seemed to reach into the heavens and a hush descended on the audience.

Well done! she said mentally. It wasn't an arch, but it was every bit as powerful. Memorable. In the long run, people's attitudes wouldn't change. Miracles only commanded temporary subservience. But at the least the threat of riot was quelled, a bucket of water to that small fire, drowning it out.

Almost. Unintended consequenses were never foreseeable. Into the silence, the sound of a gun shot exploded. The drones adjusted their focus, programmed as they were to note rigourously defined acts of violence. The monitors showed the tall man go down, the fountain of blood that sprayed from his chest.

The entire audience seemed to hold its breath, the calm before the storm. James' demonstration, it seemed, would only temporarily hold them back.

And then it happened. Was she surprised? Perhaps not. She knew the truth of Nik's recovery. The fact James was out and about was....troubling. DuBois had paroled him.

But what was more troubling, if she was honest, was the way the crowds flocked around him, begging for healing, and he gave it, freely. She had seen Nik's abilities, felt awe. But it was awe at the great, the large, the amazing.

This was....intimate. Every look of joy, every rapturous smile, every tear stained face of relief....they did what no majestic display could.

They were personal. Even the haters and agitators were stunned to silence by such individual demonstrations of power. For the time being, anyway.

And for the first time Alexandrova saw the power healers of old had. Especially those like Nik, if the Atharim were right. So very easy to worship as gods. To give devotion and worship- adoration- to.

Indeed, just the stories of Jesus had been enough to garner the love and devotion of millions of people for thousands of years. Even if untrue, those fables alone had power.

The voice of one of the nuns at her school came back to her. Jesus and the leper. The crowds flee from him and his loathsome and terrible desease. He approaches Jesus, on his knees, hands and face withered and disfigured, the image of pain and loneliness and suffering, begging a god to have mercy on him. "If you just want to, you can make me clean." So easy. Just a whim and he could be cured. And Jesus reaches out his hand to touch this man for whom touch has been denied for years, touches him gently. "I want to. Be made clean."

Power. Just the story alone held the ability to move the heart. A masterpiece of propaganda. The fact she remembered it after all these years- that it still held some power over her, of all people- was testimony to that.

And now it was here, in the flesh. And something occurred to Alexandrova. For all his accomplishments, Nik was still very aloof. He was god to these people. Alien. And it worked well enough. But if Nik could do more, if he could reach into their lives as James had....

The potential was amazing to consider.

She stood. The conference would go on. The potential for violence stemned for the moment. She had a new idea to consider. A new seed to plant and water. She couldn't help but smile at the possibilities.
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Mar 13 2018, 08:50 AM.