Prologue
“Tonight’s a big one, eh?”
It’s the tenth time someone’s said the same thing to me already. As if I didn’t already know that tonight’s important.
Whoever says those five words next will receive a slap or, more likely, an internal scoff and eye roll that could detach my retinas.
“Hey Saint, how are you doing? Big one tonight, isn’t it?”
Instead of slapping them, I paste on a bland smile and nod along. “Sure is.”
There’s a buzz in the air tonight. The atmosphere’s a mixture of excitement and trepidation and everyone’s buzzing around like flies without actually getting anything done.
The sold out signs plastered all over the walls catch my eye once again and I get the familiar swooping sense of nausea in my stomach that happens every time I see them.
Eight thousand seats, with every single one of them sold.
Eight thousand souls gathering together for tonight’s Awakening.
“Gather around everyone. Positivity Circle time,” Gina calls.
The doors open in less than an hour, and there are always a few early arrivals before the Awakening starts. They think that if they come early enough, they might get one-on-one time with the Herald. They think he’ll take them in hand and cure all their ills before everyone else gets here.
Too bad that’s never going to happen.
The Herald—aka our fearless leader, Cedar Orlog—stands up on stage in front of us all, widening his arms in his designer suit. The impossibly large, impossibly white smile is out on display. His dyed mahogany hair is slicked back with enough product that it looks like he’s dumped his head in an entire vat of gel.
“Gather around everyone.” His voice booms out. For some reason, he’s already mic'd up, even though he shouldn’t be yet. He must have fitted it himself even though that’s my job, and I still need to do a couple of last checks on it.
I have to drag myself away from my checklist to join the circle. There are still a half dozen things I need to go through before we can start letting people in. And something tells me tonight’s Positivity Circle is going to be a long one.
“Take the hand of the person on either side of you,” the Herald says, beaming around at the fifty members of his crew.
I remember when there were only three of us. I was fifteen and there was just me, my mother, and Gina—the Herald’s assistant. I remember too, as the team built up to five, then ten.
Back then, the first Awakenings were all held in basements and the shittiest conference rooms in ratty hotels just off the interstate. I was pretty sure one of us would get mugged in the parking lot or would interrupt a drug deal on our way to our cars.
This cavernous hall with its rows upon rows of seats and fancy lighting and sound system is a world apart.
“Now, turn to the person beside you and tell them you appreciate them.”
The person to my left grips my fingers in their clammy grasp and I try not to jerk my hand away.
“I appreciate you.”
It’s Clara, one of the newly Devoted. She was hired to do the Herald’s makeup and hair and her eyes are already shimmering with unshed tears.
She’s a believer all right.
“I appreciate you,” I tell her.
Every week for the past twelve years, I’ve stood in a Positivity Circle and then listened to the same rousing speech, given by the Herald. And it’s only because I’ve done this so many times before, I can keep my voice from wavering.
Now, not all the eight thousand people coming for tonight’s Awakening are what the Herald calls ‘true Devoted’. A lot of them are curious and they want to see what it’s all about.
There are rumors swirling about The Path in the world beyond this auditorium. A lot of rumors about what makes the Herald’s Awakenings so popular. Or about how the attendees would come in as semi-interested gawkers and leave with their heads turned and their brains slightly addled.
People leave his gatherings feeling like they could help the Herald to rule the world, to make change. To really be somebody.
