We had made our way a bit farther from the courtyard once again, partly out of a desire to explore, partly out of a desire for solitude, and partly out of a desire to not get fucking shot.
We found ourselves near the edge of the fenced property, surrounded by trees and admiring the architecture of the castle. In Christophe's defence, his house was pretty damn nice. Maybe imperialism does pay off in the end, after all. Pentti had wandered away from me, having gone to view another garden statue, allegedly where a saint was prepared for burial.
"Do you think they'll let us stay over still if I lie down on it for a minute?" Pentti asked me.
Meanwhile, I remained transfixed at the mosaic frieze aligning the outer walls of the castle. They depicted, perhaps predictably, various Christian figures, angels, and events described in the New Testament. I could see the messiah and his twelve apostles staring down at me, and I knew exactly what they were saying, though their mouths were sealed forever.
I’m an atheist, of course. God doesn’t exist. But God’s non-existence is not the same as the non-existence of, say, Zeus or a flying pig. God shouldn’t be confused with Yahweh, the character who is supposed to fulfill the function of God. The god who appears in the literature, who is supposed to be answering your prayers; some old man with a long beard, lying on his belly behind the clouds, peering at you while you masturbate. That god doesn’t exist the same way that Zeus or a flying pig doesn’t exist. But God is a quirk of Reason, a glitch, an unintended consequence of its features—of five features, specifically, according to Aquinas, that is to say, Aristotle…
"Do you think God blinks?" Pentti's voice broke the silence of the ocean breeze.
"What?"
"Do you think God blinks?" he repeated.
"There are rumours he's dead," I told him.
"Yeah, I read Nietzsche too," he said in a petulant, snarky tone. "You're not special, buddy."
"I disagree," I said, sitting up, and observing the courtyard from a distance. "I think I'm very special."
He waved his hand, and was about to walk away to god-knows-where when he suddenly stopped. He put up a clenched fist to silence me, a quirk he's maintained since his time in the barracks.
"Is that a... cosplayer?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the castle. I stood up to take a better look.
It was Ari, presumably with one of her warboys, sneaking around, seemingly searching for something - or somebody.
