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  ...presents...                   The Bishop
                                                         by Curtis Yarvin

                      >>> a cDc publication.......1994 <<<
                        -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
  ____       _     ____       _       ____       _     ____       _       ____
 |____digital_media____digital_culture____digital_media____digital_culture____|

     No one has come to the cathedral in some time.

     The bishop is not sure how long it has been; sometimes he feels as though
it was just the other day when at mass the pews were full of old women in
black.  Sometimes he feels as though it has been a very long time, possibly
since before he was born.

     Such confusion no longer disturbs him.  He thinks of his memory as like
one of the lower crypts, where the resting places of the monks can be
distinguished only by the patterns of dust that their disintegrating bones have
formed on the floor.  Delicate, perhaps, and obscure; but beautiful in its own
way, and not something one would wish to change even were it possible.

     The bishop is a man of logic.  Unlike many older people, he is unwilling
to repaint the world he sees around him, to make it a more comfortable place in
which to live.  He recognizes unpleasant facts.  Indeed, he delights in them,
for in the act of recognition he finds proof that his faculties have not
decayed to that state of contented oblivion which he believes a sure precursor
to death.

     He understands, thus, that no one has come to the cathedral in some time;
and he understands, further, that his cathedral is not in any sense unique,
that it is but one cathedral among many, and even where it stands out it is
typical in its way of standing out.  Thus, it is possible, indeed likely, that
no one has come to any cathedral in some time.

     Furthermore, although he is unable to discern how long that time has been,
he knows that his persistence in life has been unusual, even extraordinary. 
The bishop considers himself devoid of false modesty, which to him has always
been a particularly great sin, and realizes that most ordinary men, even most
ordinary bishops, would have long since abandoned the mission.

     Thus, for quite some time he has considered himself a cardinal, assuming
that the ordinary constituted authorities are, if still capable of such an
appointment, no longer actively seeking out candidates, and knowing that his
qualifications and time of service are more than adequate for the position.  In
his youth he had always wanted to become a cardinal, and he considers his
attainment a great honor.  He does not shirk the responsibilities or privileges
that accompany it, and always dresses commensurately with his position.  There
are many cardinals' hats to be found in the crypts, and he uses the resource
wisely, never wearing any one hat for more than a week at a time, as they are
old and wont to crumble.  Their deep red color, he finds, is particularly
useful for deterring wild beasts, which have of late grown common, and bold.

     He still holds Mass each week.  It is true, that there have not been many
communicants recently, but such observations if taken to heart have a way of
making themselves come true, and he considers the service his duty as a officer
of the Church.  Deliveries of material have ceased, but in the basements there
are considerable stocks of wafers and wine.  The latter is especially abundant;
not all of it is sacramental, but being a bishop as well as a cardinal he can
perform his own consecration, and feels free to make liberal use of it.  It
fortifies his Latin, he finds, and has shown some signs of clarifying his
memory.

     Every month he makes a circuit of the cathedral's exterior.  Regular
maintenance is no longer being performed, but the building remains in
remarkable shape for a structure of its age.  Now and then a gargoyle will drop
off; on his rounds he finds the carving, sunk into the mossy earth, and takes
it inside to the repair room, where its predeceased comrades lie in straight
rows.  The repair room is coming to resemble one of the crypts.  Sometimes,
indeed, he feels more companionship with the rocky gargoyles than with his
ancestral brethren below, and considers leaving his remains with the former
rather than the latter.

     But it is not yet time for that.  Lately, he has been wondering whether he
ought not to be considered Pope.  The temporal situation, he thinks, warrants
the decision; but there is the question of his habit.  His episcopal robes are
not proper papal attire, even for informal situations, let alone High Mass. 
Nor does he have the correct mitre.

     The obvious solution is to declare himself Pope-elect until appropriate
habit can be provided, but it is unclear to him by when he can obtain such a
habit, and a prolonged tenure as Pope-elect would be unseemly.  It would, he
feels, project a sense of disarray at the highest levels, and reflect poorly on
the Church.

     As a compromise, he plans to take up sewing, as a hobby.  He has
investigated records, and many of his predecessors have also had hobbies.  It
is true that, so far as he can tell, sewing has never been among them, and is
thus somewhat unusual; but these are, certainly, unusual times.  He will sew
himself a proper papal habit, and then he will become Pope.

     This, he feels, is an excellent plan.
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   (U)   |==================================================================|
  .ooM   |Copyright (c) 1994 cDc communications and Curtis Yarvin.          |
\_______/|All Rights Reserved.                               05/01/1994-#252|

