She turned to the other girl and said, “I hope there will still be some decent pizza by the time we get there.” I smiled politely and followed the two of them out the door and down a long corridor, to a large and cheery sign welcoming us to the Youth Center.
The inside appeared to be a combination gym and recreation room, with several smaller rooms arranged along the outer walls for classes or meetings. Trey was seated at a long picnic-style table with Charlayne and the rest of the group that had sat near us during the sermon, and I saw that he’d not only saved me a seat but had also snagged me a slice of pizza and a diet soda.
I slid onto the bench. “Thanks.” Eve and my other companion from the restroom gave a loud sniff, almost in perfect unison, and headed over to the collection of pizza boxes at the end of the table to see what remained.
“No problem at all, cuz,” Trey said. I gave him a look suggesting that he was overdoing it a bit, and he flashed me a quick grin before turning back to Charlayne. “So I’ve read most of the Book of Cyrus, and it’s really interesting and all, but I don’t think it really gives me an idea of what Cyrists do. What you believe. My mom says that you don’t accept everyone for membership—that not everyone is eligible to be Chosen. Is that true?”
Charlayne looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, yes and no. Anyone at all can attend our services—I mean, you’re here today, right? And you could attend the Acolyte meetings and you could become a church member. Then, over time, we would know if you were Chosen. Not everyone is Chosen. You’d have to go through several years of classes, and you would find out whether you could open your mind to The Way. And you’d have to commit to our rules—they’re pretty strict on some things—and then…” She shrugged.
“So is everyone here Chosen?” I asked.
“Oh no,” she said. “We’re still Acolytes. We aren’t independent yet. Most of us are still in school and even after… there’s no guarantee you’ll be Chosen.”
“But the Creed—‘We choose The Way so we may be Chosen’—all of you repeated it in the service?”
“Yes.” She nodded, with a patient smile. “‘We choose The Way so we may be Chosen.’ ‘We choose The Way so we may be Saved.’ We aren’t assured that Cyrus will protect us, but those who choose The Way may be among those who will find mercy at The End. Those who are Chosen may be saved. Those who never listen, who ignore the warnings in the Book of Cyrus, have no chance at all.”
I thought that it seemed like a pretty weak promise compared to other religions I had studied, but I nodded and returned her smile.
Trey took another bite of his pizza and then asked, “So how would you know? I mean, what tells you that someone is Chosen?”
“It varies for each individual. Most people are identified by their gifts—by the degree to which God blesses them once they begin to follow The Way. That’s how my parents became Chosen. The members of the board and Brother Conwell examined their ledgers before they joined and compared it to their ledgers afterward, and decided that God had shown them favor.”
Eve, who was now seated across from Trey, picked a piece of sausage off her pizza and gave me a sideways look. “But there are some who are identified by their talents—who can do miracles, who can prophesy. Sometimes they are Chosen very young. Brother Conwell, for example, was Chosen when he was thirteen. His daughter was even younger when she first read from the Book of Prophecy. They were predestined to be Chosen, so their names are written in the Book itself.”
“I’m still a bit confused. Exactly what it is that Cyrus promises to save the Chosen from?” Trey asked. “From hell?”
The dark-haired boy next to Eve, who had been one of those arguing about sports before the service, laughed. “Cyrists don’t believe in an afterlife. Your rewards are in this life. Cyrus can save the Chosen from The End. The world is going to end, you know—and pretty soon, based on the prophecies we’ve been given. The Chosen will live on, when everyone else dies. They will be the future.”
That gave me a bit of a shudder and it must have shown in my expression, because Eve gave the boy a long, hard look. “Really, Jared. Is this a conversation we should be having at lunch? With visitors?” She turned back to me with a reassuring smile. “All of this would be covered in eschatology classes—the leaders know a lot more about The End than Jared does, believe me.”
“The thing that I like to focus on,” Charlayne said to Trey, “is that The Way gives us the tools for a happy and successful life here and now. And contrary to popular opinion, Cyrists do know how to have a good time. We’re planning a trip to Six Flags next weekend if you’re interested.”