Patterson gave a smile and a slight nod to the congregation. Conwell then raised his arms to direct us to stand for the opening hymn. The lights dimmed and a recessed section of the stage rose up gradually to reveal a large choir and musicians. The hymnals were apparently a relic from earlier days or else were simply placed there for casual reading before the service because the lyrics to “Morning Has Broken” began to scroll across the plasma screen, superimposed over serene images of nature.
Two songs and a moment of silent meditation later, Conwell began his sermon. It was fairly short and very similar to the Cyrist messages that I had read online, with a strong emphasis on self-improvement and at least half a dozen very explicit references to tithing in the half hour or so that he spoke. Conwell had a charismatic aura that was much more apparent in person than in the snippets I had watched online, and I found myself smiling at a few of his anecdotes, despite my predisposition to dislike him.
The responsive reading, however, was really creepy. I had read the Cyrist Creed online and it was printed on the inside back cover of my handy pocket copy of the Book of Cyrus. While it seemed a bit out there, it wasn’t that different from stuff I’d read from other religions that believe they have a lock on divine wisdom and a reserved seat in the VIP section of the hereafter. There was just something about having the words chanted aloud by several hundred people that made them more… tangible, I guess.
The lights dimmed as Brother Cyrus moved to one side, and the backdrop lit up to reveal a group of individuals and families of various races and ages whose faces beamed as they exclaimed, “We choose The Way, so we are the Blessed,” with those words floating across the bottom of the screen. The pictures shifted to a large offering plate overflowing with gold coins, which struck me as oddly similar to a leprechaun’s pot of gold, and the caption changed to “As we give to Cyrus, so shall we prosper.”
The same group of faces, now a bit more serious, declared, “We choose The Way, so we may be Chosen,” just before the video slowly morphed into an apocalyptic background, with dead, blackened trees stark against a red sky—and the voices continued: “As humans have failed to protect the Planet, the Planet shall protect itself.”
The screen then flashed back to the group of Cyrists, whose expressions ranged from determined to angry. “We choose The Way, so we are Defenders. Enemies of The Way will face our Wrath and Judgment.” And then the last line of the Creed, “We choose The Way, so we may be Saved,” showed the group with triumphant faces, standing before a lush and verdant garden—the earth restored, a virtual Garden of Eden. Trey was apparently unnerved as well, because his hand sought out mine for a brief squeeze before the lights came back up.
The service concluded with announcements—the quarterly executive meeting in the annex following the service, two upcoming weddings, and a retirement party—as young men at each end of the aisle passed the collection plate. That was another thing that I probably should have anticipated, but it wouldn’t have really mattered since my very last dollar had vanished with my backpack on the Metro. I gave the guy on my left an apologetic smile as he handed me the collection plate and then passed it along to Trey. He put a rather generous donation on top of the stack of bills, checks, and envelopes, and was duly rewarded by the beaming approval of Charlayne and Eve, who were already whispering to him about the youth meeting after the service.
I toyed with the idea of following Conwell, who was almost certainly headed toward the executive meeting that he had announced, but I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for. A copy of the Book of Prophecy would be nice, but based on everything I had read online, the temple leaders didn’t just leave those lying around. Tidbits were doled out to members and initiates; few had seen the actual book.
I suspected that there would be some interesting financial tips handed out at the executive meeting, but we stood zero chance of getting into that little soiree, especially if Patterson was attending. It looked like I would have to make do with what we could tease out of the Acolytes.
Trey and I followed Charlayne and her friends out of the auditorium, with Charlayne practically glued to Trey’s side. I stopped off at the first ladies’ room. Eve and one of the other female Acolytes did the same. I wasn’t sure if they were following me or just needed to pee, since they entered the first two stalls inside the door and went straight to business. I entered the stall at the opposite end and took my time, hoping they would leave without me. They didn’t, and there was a look of impatience on Eve’s face as I stopped by the sink to wash up.