Francis LaPorte and the Association of Good Fellows

Destined for Destruction

Monday, 19 Iyar, 5693

Francis dropped the letter on his desk and leaned back in the chair with a deep sigh. That was the third rejection since he had begun vying for a pastorate. He rubbed his weary eyes and groaned. This in addition to the ecumenical situation had left him in a state of total frustration, and the situation on campus wasn't helping him, either.

"No matter, really," he muttered, placing the letter back into its torn envelope and stuffing it in a drawer of his mahogany desk.

When the right place for him came, he knew he would have it, but until then, everything seemed so uncertain. Fear wasn't something he would readily admit to, but it was certainly something he felt. The sure pull of the conflict within the Kingsmen and his country's politics had brought him to a place where he now longed for a quiet pastorate, which was, despite its simplicity, a seemingly impossible request.

He glanced down at his newly finished statement on the Altruic question. It had been a month now he had worked on it, combing it over and polishing the paper for its coming publication, and finally it pleased him enough to sign it. He scribbled the date at the top and wondered how long it would be until the government would outlaw the calendar.

He set the pen in its place and stared down at the document he had written. "Open your mouth for the dumb, for all who are appointed to destruction," he said as he shut his eyes and lowered his head into his hands. "Oh, God," he sighed, "what shall we do?"

It was then that there was a knock at his door.

"Yes?" he said, lifting his head.

The door opened to the sight of Arden Ditmer, looking much more shaken than Francis had ever seen him.

"Arden," he said, standing from the desk to greet him.

"Hello, Francis," the pale-faced man replied, glancing over his shoulder. "Do you realize they're burning books out there?"

"What! Where?"

"Out on the university lawn. See for yourself," Arden replied, gesturing towards the widow through which bright streams of sunshine lit the room.

Francis turned and threw open the window, taking hold of the outer brick which encased the illustrious building as he leaned out into the heat of the day. A billow of smoke wafted up from the yard, a blazing bonfire the NAGF had made. He watched in horror as the students gathered round the fire cast book after book upon the massive blaze, shouting out the names of the banned authors as they did so.

Ronald Truett was there leading the students with his voice raised as the flames caught in his blackened eyes, and he repeated the call of the Good Fellows, "Oh century, oh scholarship, it is a joy to be alive!"

Francis quickly ducked back in when Truett caught his eye, and he slammed the window closed.

"So they are," Francis said, "but why are you bothered by it? I thought that you were a supporter of Freitag's initiatives."

"You missed the news, Francis," he said, pushing the door shut behind him as he entered more fully into the room and removed his hat.

"What news?" Francis asked him.

"From the conference last month," Arden told him. "I'm on the outs with the Association. They gave me a real tongue-lashing right in front of everybody because I put qualifications on the church's allegiance to the Good Fellows' Association, just like you told me to. It was quite embarrassing, Francis," he said, looking at him with a speculative smile. "But, you know, you were right, and... I don't think I've ever been so glad to get bawled out by anyone as I was Truett. A Kingsman cannot offer any man his unconditional support, and, if that is what Freitag demands, he must not have it."

Francis smiled. At last it seemed he had come around. "They're talking about rewriting the holy books," he said, turning abruptly from the window to the paper on his desk. "They say that they're planning to erase any reference to the Altruic people and their culture, and they even intend to remove some of the books entirely. Did you hear that, as well?"

Arden watched him. "Yes," he said; "Of course, it isn't exactly the type of thing I would support."

Francis chuckled. "I was hoping not," he said, lifting the pages of his newborn article and presenting them to Arden. "Here, take a look at this."

Arden took it roughly from his friend, glancing it over before he began to read the piece more thoroughly. "The Altruic Question..." he muttered. "What is this?"

"My thoughts on the question of the Altruites, as posed by Freitag's Associates, and assorted points then to argue the proper Kingsmen response to it," Francis informed him, feeling quite sure of himself. "It will be published in the next edition of Jay Yakovi's post."

"Yakovi..." Arden muttered, still reading, "isn't he involved with that new League of Reformers they have going?"

Francis nodded. The group had begun to pop up on campus and elsewhere around Bevel, lending him some hope that the upcoming efforts for church unification may bring some real declaration of peace among brethren, rather than simply lending greater strength to the efforts of Freitag's work among the Kingsmen.

"He is," Francis said, "and though I found their initial declaration to be lacking in any form of serious substance, a young man dropped by my office today with an appendix to the referendum which I happily signed. I saw some other names on there which were not included on the first. I see a lot of promise in the movement... at least here in Bevel, if not abroad. I was pleased to see Fidel's name on the appendix, as well."

"Yes... well, I suppose someone has to fight Freitag's forces ready to hail in the new Empiric Church of Garma," Arden mused. He was on the last page of the script now, and his eyes raised in curiosity to Francis. "Have you read this?"

"Read it?" Francis sniggered. "I wrote it!"

"The third point," Arden said, hardly believing him, and he hit the page with the back of his hand in order to accentuate his point before reading it. "'We are called not only to bind up the victims who are crushed by the gears of oppression as they turn, but to put a spike in the wheel itself. Therefore, there are times when even we as Kingsmen may be called upon to commit violence in order to prevent it.'" He shook his head. "Violence, Francis! Really? Have you lost your mind?"

"Only in the case of a church-wide referendum brought on by the Ruling Council," Francis reminded him. "But yes — there are times when we are responsible to take action!"

"And where do you expect to get this ecclesiastical synod?" Arden demanded.

"It would please me fine if the World Council would do it, but I would settle for this gathering of Freitag's at the end of the month on behalf of the proposed Empiric Church of Garma," Francis replied, though he may have been a bit overly brief about it.

"You can't be serious! You can't really expect that Freitag's group would even begin to discuss such a thing! And the Council?" Arden scoffed. "They'll never get involved in something like this! Why, I can't believe that they would ever even address the situation here in Garma!"

Francis met his eyes, determined. "Why shouldn't they? Arden, I'm publishing that paper as is. I don't care that you think it's strong; it must be."

Arden wagged his finger at him. "You listen here, Francis, these are dangerous people you're dealing with. If you keep on like this, they'll kill you. You hear me? It's death you're asking for, Francis."

Francis shrugged. "Then death I'll have," he said. "We should not fear death here, but death hereafter, as I recall it, Mr. Ditmer."