{"id":33167,"date":"2020-05-18T00:49:13","date_gmt":"2020-05-18T06:49:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/?p=33167"},"modified":"2021-02-16T23:37:09","modified_gmt":"2021-02-17T05:37:09","slug":"the-last-museum","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/the-last-museum\/","title":{"rendered":"The Last Museum","gt_translate_keys":[{"key":"rendered","format":"text"}]},"content":{"rendered":"<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter  wp-image-33166\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/museum3-1024x706.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"590\" height=\"407\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/museum3-1024x706.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/museum3-1536x1059.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/museum3-300x207.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/museum3-768x530.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/museum3.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 590px) 100vw, 590px\" \/><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\">\u00a0<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-size: 14pt;\">A Short Story<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 14pt;\"> by <\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 14pt;\"> Mark Mallett<br \/>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\">\u00a0<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\">(First published February 21st, 2018.)<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\">\u00a0<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\" align=\"center\"><em>2088 A.D..<\/em>..\u00a0<em>Fifty-five years after The Great Storm. <br \/>\n<\/em><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\">\u00a0<\/p>\n<p align=\"left\"><b>HE<\/b> drew a deep breath as he stared at the oddly twisted, soot-covered metal roof of The Last Museum\u2014named so, because it simply would be. Tightly closing his eyes, a flood of memories ripped open a cavern in his mind that had long been sealed&#8230; the first time he\u2019d ever seen nuclear fallout&#8230; the ash from the volcanoes\u2026 the suffocating air\u2026 the black billowing clouds that hung in the sky like dense clusters of grapes, blocking the sun for months on end&#8230;<!--more--><\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">&#8220;Grampa?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">Her delicate voice snapped him from an overwhelming sense of darkness that he\u2019d long not felt. He looked down into her bright, inviting face filled with a compassion and love that immediately drew tears from the well of his heart.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, Tessa,\u201d he said, his nickname for the young Th\u00e9r\u00e8se. Fifteen years old, she was like his very own daughter. He clasped her face in his hands and through watery eyes drank from the seeming endless abyss of goodness streaming from hers.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYour innocence, child. You have no idea\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Tessa knew this would be an emotional day for the man she called \u201cGrampa\u201d. Her actual grandfather had died in the Third War, and so, Thomas Hardon, now in his mid-nineties, assumed that role.<\/p>\n<p>Thomas had lived through what became known as <em>The Great Storm<\/em>, a brief period some 2000 years after the birth of Christianity that culminated in <em>&#8220;t<\/em><i>he final confrontation between the Church and the anti-church, the Gospel and the anti-gospel, between Christ and the Antichrist.&#8221; <\/i><span class=\"footnote_referrer\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_1');\" onkeypress=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_1');\" ><sup id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_1\" class=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text\">[1]<\/sup><\/a><span id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_1\" class=\"footnote_tooltip\">Eucharistic Congress for the bicentennial celebration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, Philadelphia, PA, 1976; cf. <a href=\"http:\/\/www.catholic.org\/news\/national\/story.php?id=57376\">Catholic Online<\/a> (confirmed by Deacon Keith Fournier who was in attendance<\/span><\/span><script type=\"text\/javascript\"> jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top right', relative: true, offset: [10, 10], });<\/script><i><br \/>\n<\/i><\/p>\n<p>&#8220;That\u2019s what John Paul the Great called it,&#8221; Grampa once said.<\/p>\n<p>The survivors believed that they were now living in that period of peace foretold in the 20th chapter of Revelation, denoted by the symbolic number of a &#8220;thousand years.&#8221;<span class=\"footnote_referrer\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_2');\" onkeypress=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_2');\" ><sup id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_2\" class=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text\">[2]<\/sup><\/a><span id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_2\" class=\"footnote_tooltip\"><strong>&#8220;Now\u2026 we understand that a period of one thousand years is indicated in symbolic language.&#8221;<\/strong> (St. Justin Martyr, <em>Dialogue with Trypho<\/em>, Ch. 81, <em>The Fathers of the Church<\/em>, Christian Heritage)\u00a0St. Thomas Aquinas explained: &#8220;As Augustine says, the last age of the world corresponds to the last stage of a man\u2019s life, which does not last for a fixed number of years as the other stages do, but lasts sometimes as long as the others together, and even longer. Wherefore the last age of the world cannot be assigned a fixed number of years or generations.&#8221;\u00a0(<em>Quaestiones Disputate<\/em>, Vol. II De Potentia, Q. 5, n.5; <a href=\"http:\/\/dhspriory.org\/thomas\/QDdePotentia.htm#5:5\" rel=\"nofollow noopener\">www.dhspriory.org)<\/a> <\/span><\/span><script type=\"text\/javascript\"> jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_2').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_2', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top right', relative: true, offset: [10, 10], });<\/script>\u00a0After the fall of the \u201cDark One\u201d (as Grampa called him) and the cleansing of the earth of the \u201crebellious\u201d, a remnant of survivors began the rebuilding of a &#8220;greatly simplified&#8221; world. Tessa was the second generation to be born in this Era of Peace. To her, the nightmares her forefathers endured and the world they described seemed nearly impossible.<\/p>\n<p>Which is why Grampa brought her to this museum in what was once known as Winnipeg, Canada. The dark, spiralling building was at one time the Canadian Museum of Human Rights. But as Grampa said, \u201c\u2018Rights became death sentences.\u201d In the first year after the Great Purification of the earth, he had inspired the idea for the museum for future generations to <i>remember. <\/i><\/p>\n<p>\u201cI get a strange feeling here, Grampa.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft  wp-image-33169\" style=\"margin: 2px 5px 2px 5px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/lastmus.jpg\" width=\"307\" height=\"512\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/lastmus.jpg 602w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/lastmus-180x300.jpg 180w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 307px) 100vw, 307px\" \/>From a distance, the museum looked like drawings of the biblical \u201cTower of Babel,\u201d a structure the ancients built out of arrogance in order to reach the \u201cheavens,\u201d hence, provoking God\u2019s judgment. The United Nations also resembled that infamous tower, Thomas recalled.<\/p>\n<p>This building was chosen for a few reasons. First, it was one of the few large structures still intact. Much of the former United States to the south was decimated and uninhabitable. \u201cOld Winnipeg,\u201d as it was now called, was the new thoroughfare for pilgrims traveling from the Sanctuaries (the refuges where God shielded His remnant during the Purification). The climate here was now far milder compared to when Grampa was a kid. \u201cIt was the coldest place in Canada,\u201d he often said. But after the Great Earthquake that tilted the earth\u2019s axis,<span class=\"footnote_referrer\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_3');\" onkeypress=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_3');\" ><sup id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_3\" class=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text\">[3]<\/sup><\/a><span id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_3\" class=\"footnote_tooltip\">cf. <a href=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/fatima-and-the-great-shaking\/\"><em>Fatima, and the Great Shaking<\/em><\/span><\/span><script type=\"text\/javascript\"> jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_3').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_3', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top right', relative: true, offset: [10, 10], });<\/script><\/a> Old Winnipeg was now closer to the equator, and the region&#8217;s once stark prairies were beginning to teem with lush foliage.<\/p>\n<p>Second, the site was chosen to make a statement. Mankind had come to replace God\u2019s commandments with \u201crights\u201d that, having lost their basis in the natural law and moral absolutes, created an arbitrary order that tolerated everything but respected no one. It seemed fitting to turn this shrine into a pilgrimage site that would remind future generations of the fruits of \u201crights\u201d <em>when<\/em> unhinged from the Divine Order.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGrampa, we don\u2019t have to go in.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, yes we do, Tessa. You, and your children and your children\u2019s children need to remember what happens when we turn from God\u2019s commandments. Just as the laws of nature have consequences when not followed, so too do the laws of the Divine Will.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Indeed, Thomas often pondered a <i>third<\/i> more ominous reason why The Last Museum came to be. For in the 20th chapter of Revelation, it goes on to speak of what happens <i>after<\/i> the period of peace&#8230;<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;\">When the thousand years are completed, Satan will be released from his prison. He will go out to deceive the nations at the four corners of the earth, Gog and Magog, to gather them for battle\u2026 (Rev 20:7-8)<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>How humans could forget the lessons of the past and rebel <em>yet again<\/em> against God was a source of debate among many of the survivors. The pestilence, evil, and poisons that once hung in the air, oppressing the soul, were gone. Nearly everyone, to one degree or another, was now a contemplative. The &#8220;Gift&#8221; (as it was called) of living in the Divine Will had so transformed souls that many felt as though they were already in Heaven, held back as though by a thread, anchored to their flesh.<\/p>\n<p>And this new and divine holiness spilled over into the temporal order like the falls of a great river. Nature itself, once groaning under the weight of evil, had revived in places. Soil had become lush again in the habitable lands; the waters were crystal clear; the trees were bursting with fruit and the grain reached four feet high with heads nearly twice as long as in his day. And there was no more artificial \u201cseparation of Church and State.\u201d The leadership were saints. There was peace\u2026 <i>authentic<\/i> peace. The spirit of Christ imbued everything. He was reigning in His people, and they were reigning in Him. The prophecy of a pope had come to fruition:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 10pt;\"><strong style=\"margin: 0px; font-style: inherit;\">\u201cAnd they shall hear my voice, and there shall be one fold and one shepherd.\u201d May God\u2026 shortly bring to fulfillment His prophecy for transforming this consoling vision of the future into a present reality\u2026 <\/strong><strong style=\"margin: 0px; font-style: inherit;\">It is God\u2019s task to bring about this happy hour and to make it known to all\u2026 When it does arrive, it will turn out to be a solemn hour, one big with consequences not only for the restoration of the Kingdom of Christ, but for the pacification of\u2026 the world. We pray most fervently, and ask others likewise to pray for this much-desired pacification of society.<\/strong> \u2014POPE PIUS XI, <em>Ubi Arcani dei Consilioi<\/em> \u201cOn the Peace of Christ in his Kingdom\u201d, December 23, 1922<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p align=\"left\">Yes, the pacification had come. But how could humanity ever turn its back on God again? To those who asked the question, Thomas would often reply with merely two words\u2014and a sadness that alone spoke volumes:<\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 40px;\" align=\"left\">\u201cFree will.\u201d<\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">And then he would quote the Gospel of Matthew:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><span style=\"font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: 10pt;\">This gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in the whole world, for a testimony to all nations, and <em>then<\/em> shall the consummation come. (Matthew 24:14)<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p align=\"left\">After all, the Tower of Babel was built a few hundred years <i>after <\/i>the first purification of the earth by the Flood, and even while Noah was <em>still<\/em> alive. Yes, they too forgot.<\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>REMEMBERING<\/p>\n<p>The dark entrance to the museum soon led to an open room softly lit by a few artificial lights.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWow, <i>lights,<\/i>\u00a0Grampa.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>A lone curator approached them, an elderly woman in her late seventies. She explained that a few of the solar-powered lamps still worked, thanks to a former electrician who was familiar with the system in his day. As Tessa squinted at the barely lit walls, she could make out large photos of the faces of men, women, and children of different races and colors. Except for the images closer to the ceiling, most were damaged, kicked in, or spray-painted. The curator of the museum, noticing the girl&#8217;s curiosity, injected:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLike most buildings that survived the Quake, they <i>didn\u2019t<\/i> survive the anarchists.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s an anarchist?\u201d Tessa asked.<\/p>\n<p>She was a curious girl, witty and intelligent. She read and studied the few books that remained in the Sanctuaries and asked a lot of questions, most often when the elders used terms that were out of vogue. Once again, Thomas found himself studying her face\u2026 and her innocence. <em>Blessed are the pure in heart. <\/em>Oh, how her maturity dwarfed the fifteen-year-olds of his time\u2014young men and women who had been brainwashed with revisionist history, dumbed-down by a constant flood of propaganda, sensual media, consumerism, and meaningless education. &#8220;God,\u201d he thought to himself, \u201cthey turned them into animals to follow little more than their lowest appetites.\u201d He recalled how so many were overweight and sickly looking, slowly poisoned by nearly everything they ate, drank, and breathed.<\/p>\n<p>But Tessa\u2026 she practically glowed with <em>life<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAn anarchist,\u201d the curator responded, &#8220;is\u2026 or rather, <em>was<\/em> essentially someone who rejected authority, whether it was that of the government or even the Church\u2014and worked to overthrow them. They were revolutionaries\u2014at least they thought they were; young men and women with no light in their eyes, who respected no one and no thing. Violent, they were so violent\u2026\u201d She exchanged a knowing glance with Thomas.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFeel free to take your time. You\u2019ll find it helpful to carry a lamp,\u201d she said, pointing to four unlit lanterns sitting on a small table. Thomas opened the small glass door of one of them as the curator <img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright  wp-image-33170\" style=\"margin: 1px 2px 1px 2px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/lantern-762x1024.jpg\" width=\"278\" height=\"374\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/lantern-762x1024.jpg 762w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/lantern-223x300.jpg 223w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/lantern-768x1032.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/lantern.jpg 988w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 278px) 100vw, 278px\" \/>took a nearby candle, and then lit the wick inside the lantern.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThank you,\u201d said Thomas, slightly bowing to the woman. Noting her accent, he asked, \u201cAre you an American?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI was,\u201d she replied. \u201cAnd you?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo.\u201d He didn\u2019t feel like talking about himself. \u201cBless you, and thank you again.\u201d She nodded and motioned her hand to the first exhibit, one of several that lined the outer wall of the large, open room.<\/p>\n<p>This was not a museum from Thomas\u2019 childhood with interactive displays and moving parts. Not anymore. There were no pretensions here. Just a simple message.<\/p>\n<p>They walked over to the first display. It was a simple wooden plaque with two candle sconces on either side. Script was neatly burned into its grain. Thomas leaned forward, holding the light of the lamp closer.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCan you read that, dear?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Tessa spoke the words slowly, prayerfully:<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><i>The eyes of the Lord are directed toward the righteous<br \/>\n<\/i><\/span><\/strong><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><i>and his ears toward their cry.<br \/>\n<\/i><\/span><\/strong><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><i>The Lord\u2019s face is against evildoers<br \/>\n<\/i><\/span><\/strong><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><i>to wipe out their memory from the earth.<\/i><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><em><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">(Psalm 34:16-17)<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">Thomas quickly stood erect and released a deep sigh.<\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">\u201cIt\u2019s true, Tessa. Many said that Scriptures like these were mere metaphors. But they weren&#8217;t. Best we can tell, two-thirds of my generation are no longer on the planet.\u201d He paused, searching his memory.\u00a0\u201cThere\u2019s another Scripture that comes to mind, from Zechariah:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p align=\"left\"><span style=\"font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;\">In all the land, two-thirds of them will be cut off and perish, and one-third will be left. I will bring the one-third through the fire\u2026 I will say, \u201cThey are my people,\u201d and they will say, \u201cThe Lord is my God.\u201d (13:8-9)<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>After a few moments of silence, they walked to the next exhibit. Thomas gently grabbed her arm.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAre you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, Grampa, I\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI think we&#8217;re going to see some tough things today. It\u2019s not to shock you, but to teach you\u2026 to teach your children. Just remember, we <i>reap what we sow<\/i>. The last chapter of human history has yet to be written\u2026 by <i>you<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Tessa nodded. As they approached the next exhibit, the light of their lamp brightening the display, he recognized the familiar outline before him sitting on a small table.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAh,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s an unborn baby.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft  wp-image-33171\" style=\"margin: 2px 5px 2px 5px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/Lifecov.jpg\" width=\"310\" height=\"409\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/Lifecov.jpg 528w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/Lifecov-227x300.jpg 227w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 310px) 100vw, 310px\" \/>Tessa reached out and picked up what appeared to be an old laminated magazine with plastic coil binding. Her fingers brushed across the cover, feeling its smooth texture. The front cover read \u201cLIFE\u201d at the top in bold white letters on a red rectangle. Beneath the title was a photo of a fetus resting inside the womb of its mother.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s an <i>actual<\/i> baby, Grampa?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes. It\u2019s a real photograph. Look inside.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>She slowly turned the pages that, through images, revealed the stages of life of the unborn. The warm light of the flickering lamp illuminated the wonder that crossed her face. \u201cOhh, this is amazing.\u201d But as she reached the end of the magazine, a puzzled look came over her.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy is this here, Grampa?\u201d He pointed to a small plaque hanging on the wall above the table. It simply read:<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>You shall not kill\u2026 For you created my inmost being; <\/em><\/span><\/strong><br \/>\n<strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em> you knit me together in my mother&#8217;s womb.<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>(Exodus 20:13, Psalm 139:13)<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p>Her head jerked toward him with a questioning expression. She looked down at the cover, and then back again.<\/p>\n<p>Thomas took a deep breath and explained. &#8220;When I was your age, governments around the world had declared that it was a &#8216;woman\u2019s right&#8217; to kill the baby within her womb. Of course, they didn\u2019t call it a baby. They called it a \u2018growth&#8217; or a \u2018blob of flesh&#8217; \u2014 a &#8216;fetus.'&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBut,\u201d she interrupted, \u201c<i>these pictures<\/i>. Didn\u2019t they see these pictures?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, but\u2014but people argued that the baby wasn\u2019t a <i>person<\/i>. That only when the baby was born did it become <img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright  wp-image-33199\" style=\"margin: 1px 2px 1px 2px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/babysuckling3-632x1024.jpg\" width=\"296\" height=\"479\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/babysuckling3-632x1024.jpg 632w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/babysuckling3-949x1536.jpg 949w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/babysuckling3-1265x2048.jpg 1265w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/babysuckling3-185x300.jpg 185w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/babysuckling3-768x1244.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/babysuckling3-scaled.jpg 1581w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 296px) 100vw, 296px\" \/>a person.\u201d<span class=\"footnote_referrer\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_4');\" onkeypress=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_4');\" ><sup id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_4\" class=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text\">[4]<\/sup><\/a><span id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_4\" class=\"footnote_tooltip\">cf. <a href=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/is-a-fetus-a-person\/\"><em>Is the Fetus a<\/em> <em>Person?<\/em><\/a><\/span><\/span><script type=\"text\/javascript\"> jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_4').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_4', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top right', relative: true, offset: [10, 10], });<\/script> Tessa opened the magazine again to look at the page where the child was sucking its thumb. Thomas looked carefully into her eyes and then continued.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThere came a time when doctors would deliver the baby partway until only the head remained in its mother. And because it wasn\u2019t &#8216;fully born,&#8217; they would therefore say it was still legal to kill it.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p><i>\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/i> she exclaimed, covering her mouth.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBefore the Third War, close to two billion babies had been killed after only five to six decades.<span class=\"footnote_referrer\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_5');\" onkeypress=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_5');\" ><sup id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_5\" class=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text\">[5]<\/sup><\/a><span id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_5\" class=\"footnote_tooltip\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.numberofabortions.com\/\">numberofabortions.com<\/a><\/span><\/span><script type=\"text\/javascript\"> jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_5').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_5', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top right', relative: true, offset: [10, 10], });<\/script> It was something like 115,000 a day. It was this, many believed, that brought the Chastisement upon humanity. I do too. Because in truth,\u201d he continued, pointing to the pink fetus on the magazine, \u201cthe only difference between you and that child is that it\u2019s younger.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Tessa stood motionless, her gaze locked on the face of the child before her. After a half minute or so, she whispered &#8220;Two billion&#8221;, gently replaced the magazine and began walking alone to the next exhibit. Thomas arrived a few moments later holding the lamp up to read the placard hanging on the wall.<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>Honor your father and mother.<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>(Ephesians 6:2)<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p>On a wooden table was a suitcase machine with tubes running from it, and beside that, a few medical needles. Beneath those was another placard with the words \u201cHIPPOCRATIC OATH\u201d at the top. Underneath, Thomas recognized what appeared to be Greek text:<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">\u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9\u03c4\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03af \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c7\u03c1\u03ae\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f10\u03c0\u1fbd \u1f60\u03c6\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03af\u1fc3 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bc\u03bd\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd <\/span><\/strong><br \/>\n<strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03b4\u03cd\u03bd\u03b1\u03bc\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03c1\u03af\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f10\u03bc\u03ae\u03bd, <\/span><\/strong><br \/>\n<strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">\u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b7\u03bb\u03ae\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03af\u1fc3 \u03b5\u1f34\u03c1\u03be\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">\u03bf\u1f50 \u03b4\u03ce\u03c3\u03c9 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72 \u03c6\u03ac\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u03b5\u03bd\u1f76 <\/span><\/strong><br \/>\n<strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">\u03b1\u1f30\u03c4\u03b7\u03b8\u03b5\u1f76\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03ac\u03c3\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd, \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72 \u1f51\u03c6\u03b7\u03b3\u03ae\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9 <\/span><\/strong><br \/>\n<strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">\u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03af\u03b7\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03ae\u03bd\u03b4\u03b5: <\/span><\/strong><br \/>\n<strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">\u1f41\u03bc\u03bf\u03af\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72 \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u1f76 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u03c3\u1f78\u03bd \u03c6\u03b8\u03cc\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u03ce\u03c3\u03c9.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Beneath was a translation that Tessa read aloud:<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><i>I will use treatment to help the sick <br \/>\naccording to my ability and judgment, <br \/>\nBut never with a view to injury and wrongdoing. <br \/>\nNeither will I administer a poison to anybody <br \/>\nwhen asked to do so, <br \/>\nnor will I suggest such a course.<\/i><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><em><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">\u20143rd-4th century B.C.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n<p>She paused for a moment. \u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d But Thomas said nothing.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGrampa?\u201d She turned to see a solitary tear streaming down his cheek. \u201cWhat is it?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;At the same time as they began killing the little ones,\u201d he said, motioning to the last exhibit, \u201cthe <img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft  wp-image-33173\" style=\"margin: 2px 5px 2px 5px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/machineeuth.jpg\" width=\"340\" height=\"257\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/machineeuth.jpg 901w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/machineeuth-300x227.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/machineeuth-768x582.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 340px) 100vw, 340px\" \/>government began to allow people to kill themselves. They said it was their &#8216;right&#8217;.\u201d Dipping his head toward the needles, he continued. &#8220;But then they forced the doctors to help them. In the end, though, doctors and nurses were eagerly taking people\u2019s lives by injecting them with or without their consent\u2014and not just the elderly,\u201d he said, pointing at the commandment to <i>Honor your father and mother.<\/i> &#8220;They were killing the depressed, the lonely, the physically disabled, and eventually&#8230;\u201d He looked at Tessa with severity. &#8220;Eventually they started to euthanize those who did not accept the New Religion.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat was that?\u201d she interrupted.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe &#8216;Dark One&#8217; ordered that everyone must worship his system, his beliefs, even him. Whoever didn\u2019t was taken to camps where they were &#8216;re-educated.&#8217; If that didn\u2019t work, they were eliminated. With this.\u201d He looked down again at the machine and needles. \u201cThat was in the beginning. Those were the &#8220;lucky&#8221; ones. In the end, many were brutally martyred, as you might have heard.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>He swallowed hard and continued. \u201cBut my wife\u2014Grandma\u2014she fell one day and broke her ankle. She got a terrible infection and was stuck in the hospital for weeks and wasn\u2019t getting any better. The doctor came in one day and said she should consider ending her life. He said it would be &#8216;best for everyone&#8217; and that she was getting older anyway and that it was costing &#8220;the system&#8221; too much. Of course, we said no. But the next morning, she was gone.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou mean\u2014&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, they took her, Tessa.\u201d He wiped the tear from his face. \u201cYes, I remember, and I will never forget.\u201d Then turning to her with a little smile, he said, \u201cBut I forgave.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>The next three displays were beyond Tessa\u2019s comprehension. They contained photographs salvaged from books and the former museum archives. Emaciated and bruised humans, piles of skulls, shoes, and clothing. After <img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright  wp-image-33174\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/survivorholocaust.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"296\" height=\"240\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/survivorholocaust.jpg 793w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/survivorholocaust-300x243.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/survivorholocaust-768x623.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 296px) 100vw, 296px\" \/>reading each placard, Thomas briefly explained the history of the Twentieth century&#8217;s slavery, the holocausts of Communism and Nazism, and at last the human trafficking of women and children for sex.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThey taught in the schools that God did not exist, that the world was created out of nothing but chance. That everything, humans included, was just the product of an evolutionary process. Communism, Nazism, Socialism\u2026 these political systems were ultimately just the practical application of atheistic ideologies that reduced humans to mere random particles of&#8230; chance. If that\u2019s all we are, then why shouldn\u2019t the strong control the weak, the healthy eliminate the sick? This, they said, was their natural \u2018right.&#8217;\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Suddenly, Tessa gasped as she leaned toward a tattered photo of a small child covered in flies, his arms and legs as thin as tent poles.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat happened, Grampa?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPowerful men and women used to say that the world was over-populated and that we didn\u2019t have enough food to feed the masses.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWas it true?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo. It was bunk. Before the Third War, you could have fit the entire global population into the state of <a href=\"https:\/\/www.nationalgeographic.com\/magazine\/2011\/01\/7-billion-population\/\">Texas<\/a> or even the city of Los Angeles.<img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft  wp-image-33176\" style=\"margin: 2px 5px 2px 5px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/starving2.jpg\" width=\"299\" height=\"242\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/starving2.jpg 320w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/starving2-300x243.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 299px) 100vw, 299px\" \/><span class=\"footnote_referrer\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_6');\" onkeypress=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_6');\" ><sup id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_6\" class=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text\">[6]<\/sup><\/a><span id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_6\" class=\"footnote_tooltip\">&#8220;Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, the entire world&#8217;s population could fit within the 500 square miles (1,300 square kilometers) of Los Angeles.&#8221; <em>\u2014<a href=\"https:\/\/www.nationalgeographic.com\/news\/2011\/10\/111031-population-7-billion-earth-world-un-seven\/\">National Geographic<\/a>, <\/em>October 30th, 2011<\/span><\/span><script type=\"text\/javascript\"> jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_6').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_6', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top right', relative: true, offset: [10, 10], });<\/script> Uh, Texas was\u2026 well, it was a very big state. Anyway, there was enough food to feed twice the world\u2019s population. And yet\u2026\u201d He shook his head as he ran his calloused fingers across the swollen tummy on the photo. \u201cMillions starved to death while we North Americans grew fat. It was one of the greatest injustices.<span class=\"footnote_referrer\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_7');\" onkeypress=\"footnote_moveToReference_33167_1('footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_7');\" ><sup id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_7\" class=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text\">[7]<\/sup><\/a><span id=\"footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_7\" class=\"footnote_tooltip\">&#8220;100,000 people die from hunger or its immediate consequences every day; and every five seconds, a child dies from hunger. All of this takes place in a world that already produces enough food to feed every child, woman and man and could feed 12 billion people&#8221; \u2014Jean Ziegler, UN Special Rapporteu, October 26th, 2007; <a href=\"https:\/\/news.un.org\/en\/story\/2007\/10\/237362-un-independent-rights-expert-calls-five-year-freeze-biofuel-production\">news.un.org<\/a><\/span><\/span><script type=\"text\/javascript\"> jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_7').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_33167_1_7', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top right', relative: true, offset: [10, 10], });<\/script> The lies. We could have fed them\u2026 but they had nothing to give us in turn, that is, <em>crude oil<\/em>. And so we let them die. Or we sterilized them. In the end, after the Third War, we were <i>all<\/i> hungry. I suppose that too was justice.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>At that moment, Thomas realized that he hadn\u2019t looked at Tessa for several minutes. He turned to find his sweet little girl frozen in an expression he\u2019d never seen on her face. Her bottom lip quivered as tears overflowed onto her rosy cheeks. A strand of auburn hair stuck to her cheek.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m so sorry, Tessa.\u201d He put his arm around her.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo\u2026,\u201d she said, shaking a little. \u201c<em>I\u2019m<\/em> sorry, Grampa. I can\u2019t believe you lived through all of this.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, some of these things happened before I was born, but it was all part of the same train-wreck.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat exactly is a train again, Grampa?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>He chuckled and squeezed her tight. \u201cLet\u2019s keep going. You need to <i>remember,\u00a0<\/i>Tessa.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>The next placard hung between two small statues of a nude man and woman covered tastefully in fig leaves. It read:<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>God created mankind in his image;<br \/>\n<\/em><\/span><\/strong><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>in the image of God he created them;<br \/>\n<\/em><\/span><\/strong><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>male and female he created them.<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>(Genesis 1:27)<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p>Thomas himself puzzled for a moment as to what the display meant. And then he finally noticed the photos hanging on the wall to the left and right of the statues. As he held his lamp closer, Tessa let out a yelp. \u201cWhat is <i>that<\/i><em>?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n<p>She pointed to pictures of men in thick makeup wearing dresses and costumes. Others showed people in various undress on parade floats. Some people, painted in white, looked like nuns and another like a bishop. But one photo caught Thomas&#8217;s eye in particular. It was of a naked man strolling past bystanders, <img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright  wp-image-33177\" style=\"margin: 1px 2px 1px 2px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/ppch1ba.jpg\" width=\"336\" height=\"224\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/ppch1ba.jpg 640w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/ppch1ba-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/ppch1ba-272x182.jpg 272w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 336px) 100vw, 336px\" \/>his private parts blotted out by a bit of ink. While several of the revelers seemed to be enjoying the spectacle, one young girl was covering her face, seemingly as astonished as Tessa.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIn the end, we were a generation that no longer believed in God, and therefore, no longer believed in ourselves. What, and who we were, could then be redefined to be\u2026 anything.\u201d He pointed to another photo of a man in a dog costume sitting beside his wife. \u201cThis guy identified as a dog.\u201d Tessa laughed.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI know, it sounds crazy. But it was no laughing matter. Schoolboys began to be taught that they might be girls, and little girls that they might grow up to be men. Or that they wouldn\u2019t be men or women at all. Anyone who questioned the sanity of this was persecuted. Your Great Uncle Barry and his wife Christine and their kids fled the country when the authorities threatened to take their children away for not teaching them the State &#8216;sex education&#8217; program. Many other families went into hiding, and yet others were torn apart by the State. The parents were accused of &#8216;child abuse&#8217; while their kids were then &#8216;re-educated.&#8217; Oh Lord, it was so messed up. I can\u2019t even tell you the things that they brought into school rooms to teach innocent little boys and girls, some as young as five years old. Ugh. Let\u2019s move on.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>They passed by one exhibit with several photos of people&#8217;s bodies covered in tattoos. Another exhibit had pictures of cracked soil and sickly plants.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that?&#8221; she asked. &#8220;It&#8217;s a crop-sprayer,&#8221; Grampa replied. &#8220;He&#8217;s spraying chemicals onto the food they grew.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Another display showed shorelines of dead fish and vast islands of plastic and debris floating in the sea. &#8220;We just dumped our garbage into the ocean,&#8221; Thomas said. They moved on to another display where a single calendar hung with only six-day weeks and all Christian feast days removed. The placard read:<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><strong><em><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">He shall speak against the Most High<\/span><\/em><\/strong><br \/>\n<strong><em><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">and wear down the holy ones of the Most High,<\/span><\/em><\/strong><br \/>\n<strong><em><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">intending to change the feast days and the law.<\/span><\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><em><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">(Daniel 7:25)<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n<p>At the next exhibit beneath the placard hung a photo of another magazine cover. It showed two identical babies looking at each other.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>The Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, <br \/>\nand breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; <br \/>\nand man became a living being.<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>(Genesis 2:7)<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p>On the table were other photos of identical sheep and dogs, several other identical children, as well as pictures of other creatures she did not recognize. Beneath them, another placard read:<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><b>Verily no one of sound mind can doubt the issue of this contest <br \/>\nbetween man and the Most High. <br \/>\nMan, abusing his liberty, can violate the right <br \/>\nand the majesty of the Creator of the Universe; <br \/>\nbut the victory will ever be with God\u2014nay, <br \/>\ndefeat is at hand at the moment when man, <br \/>\nunder the delusion of his triumph, <br \/>\nrises up with most audacity.<\/b> <\/span><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">\u2014POPE ST. PIUS X, <i>E Supremi<\/i>, n. 6, Oct 4th, 1903<\/span><\/p>\n<p>After reading the words aloud, Tessa asked what the whole display meant.<\/p>\n<p><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft  wp-image-33178\" style=\"margin: 2px 5px 2px 5px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/cloning-human-cover.jpg\" width=\"302\" height=\"398\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/cloning-human-cover.jpg 400w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/cloning-human-cover-228x300.jpg 228w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 302px) 100vw, 302px\" \/>\u201cIf man no longer believes in God and no longer believes that he is created in God\u2019s image, then what is stopping him from taking the place of the Creator? One of the most awful experiments on mankind was when the scientists began to clone human beings.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou mean, they would\u2026 Um, what do you mean?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThey found a way to create a human being <i>without<\/i> a father and mother in the natural way that God intended\u2014through married love. They could, for instance, take cells from your body and, from those, create another you.\u201d Tessa pulled back in astonishment. \u201cIn the end, they attempted to create an army of clones\u2014super-human fighting machines. Or super-machines with human qualities. The lines between human, machine, and animal simply disappeared.\u201d Tessa slowly shook her head. Thomas glanced at her drawn face, noting her disbelief.<\/p>\n<p>At the next exhibit, she looked down at a large table of colorful boxes and wrappers and quickly figured out what they were. \u201cIs that how food looked back then, Grampa?\u201d The only food Tessa had every known\u00a0was grown in the fertile valley that she called home (but the survivors called \u201cSanctuary\u201d). Deep orange carrots, plump potatoes, large green peas, bright red tomatoes, succulent grapes\u2026 this was <i>her <\/i>food.<\/p>\n<p>She\u2019d heard the stories about &#8220;supermarkets&#8221; and \u201cbox stores,\u201d but she\u2019d only seen those kinds of foods once before. \u201cOh! I\u2019ve seen that one, Grampa,\u201d she said, pointing to a faded cereal box with a freckled, grinning boy slurping red, yellow, and blue chunks. \u201cIt was in that abandoned house near Dauphin. But what on earth is he eating?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cTh\u00e9r\u00e8se?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI want to ask you a question. If people believed they were no longer made in God\u2019s image and that there was no eternal life\u2014that all that existed was the here and now\u2014what do you think they would do?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHm.\u201d She glanced down at the curved bench behind her and sat on the edge. \u201cWell, I suppose\u2026 I suppose they would simply live for the moment, trying to make the best of it, yes?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, they would seek whatever pleasures they could and avoid whatever suffering possible. Do you agree?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, that makes sense.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd if they did not hesitate to act like gods, creating and destroying life, altering their very bodies, do you think they would tamper with their food as well?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, they did. There came a time when it was very difficult for any of us to find the kind of food that you now know.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat? No vegetables or fruits? No cherries, apples, oranges\u2026.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI didn\u2019t say that. It was hard to find any food that wasn\u2019t genetically modified, that scientists didn\u2019t alter<img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright  wp-image-33179\" style=\"margin: 1px 2px 1px 2px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/thepoisoning-1024x682.jpg\" width=\"328\" height=\"218\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/thepoisoning-1024x682.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/thepoisoning-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/thepoisoning-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/thepoisoning-768x512.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/thepoisoning-272x182.jpg 272w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/thepoisoning.jpg 2000w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 328px) 100vw, 328px\" \/> in some way to\u2026 look better, or be resistant to disease, or whatever.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDid it taste better?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, not at all! Much of it tasted nothing like what we eat in the valley. We used to call it &#8216;Frankenfood&#8217; which means\u2026 oh, that\u2019s another story.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Thomas picked up a candy bar wrapper, its contents replaced with Styrofoam.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe were being poisoned, Tessa. People were eating foods laden with chemical from the farming practices at that time as well as toxins to preserve or flavor them. They wore makeup that was toxic; drank water with chemicals and hormones; they breathed polluted air; they ate all kinds of things that were synthetic, which means man-made. Many people got sick\u2026 millions and millions.\u2026 They became obese, or their bodies began to shut down. All kinds of cancers and diseases exploded; heart disease, diabetes, Alzheimers, stuff you\u2019ve never heard of. You\u2019d walk down the street and you could just see that people weren\u2019t well.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSo what did they do?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, people were taking drugs\u2026 we called them &#8216;pharmaceuticals.&#8217; But this was only a band-aid, and often made people sicker. In fact, it was sometimes the very ones making the food who then made the drugs to treat those who were sick from their food. They were just adding poison to the poison in many cases\u2014and made a lot of money doing it.\u201d He shook his head. &#8220;Lord, we took drugs for everything back then.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Bring the light down here, Grampa.\u201d She moved aside a box labeled \u201cWagon Wheels\u201d that covered the placard on the table. She began to read:<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><em><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">The Lord God then took the man and settled him <br \/>\nin the garden of Eden, to cultivate and care for it. <br \/>\nThe Lord God gave the man this order: <br \/>\nYou are free to eat from any of the trees of the garden <br \/>\nexcept the tree of knowledge of good and evil.<\/span><\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><em><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\">(Genesis 2:15-17)<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n<p>\u201cHm. Yes,\u201d Thomas reflected. &#8220;God has given everything we need. Many of us began to rediscover this back in the day\u2014things that you take for granted now\u2014that the leaves, herbs, and oils in God\u2019s creation <i>heal<\/i>. But even these the State tried to control if not outright ban.\u201d Tossing the candy wrapper back onto the table, he muttered. \u201cGod\u2019s food is best. Trust me.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, you don\u2019t have to convince me, Grampa. Especially when Aunt Mary cooks! Is it just me, or is garlic not the best?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd cilantro,\u201d he added with a grin. \u201cWe still hope to find a stalk of that growing somewhere one of these days.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>But his face became somber again at the next exhibit.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, dear.\u201d It was a photo of a child with a needle in her arm. He began to explain how when the pharmaceuticals called \u201cantibiotics\u201d were no longer working, everyone was ordered to take \u201cvaccinations\u201d against the diseases that were starting to kill thousands.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt was terrifying. On the one hand, people were getting horribly sick, bleeding to death just by breathing <img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft  wp-image-33180\" style=\"margin: 2px 5px 2px 5px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/cryinvacc.jpg\" width=\"304\" height=\"228\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/cryinvacc.jpg 802w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/cryinvacc-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/cryinvacc-768x576.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 304px) 100vw, 304px\" \/>the viruses in the air. On the other hand, the forced vaccinations were causing terrible reactions in many people. It was either prison or roll the dice.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s a vacc-in-ation?\u201d she asked, over-pronouncing the word.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;They believed back then that if they injected people with the virus\u2014well, a form of the virus\u2014&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s a virus?\u201d Thomas stared blankly into her eyes. Sometimes he was taken aback at how little her generation knew of the destructive forces present in his childhood. Death was now rare, and only among the most aged survivors. He recalled the prophecy of Isaiah regarding the Era of Peace:<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>As the years of a tree, so the years of my people; <br \/>\nand my chosen ones shall long enjoy the produce of their hands. <br \/>\nThey shall not toil in vain, nor beget children for sudden destruction; <br \/>\nfor a race blessed by the Lord are they and their offspring.<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>(Isaiah 65:22-23)<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p>Nor could he fully explain why he, compared to the ninety-some-year-olds he once knew, still had so much energy and was as agile as a sixty-year-old. While having a conversation on that very subject with priests from another Sanctuary, a young cleric pulled out a pile of old printed computer paper, dug through them for a minute, until he finally found the page he wanted. \u201cListen to this one,\u201d he said with a glint in his eye. \u201cThis Church Father was referring, I believe, to <i>our<\/i> time:\u201d<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p align=\"left\"><span style=\"font-size: 10pt;\"><b>Also, there shall not be an immature one, nor an old man who does not fulfill his time; for the youth shall be of a hundred years old\u2026<\/b> \u2014 St. Irenaeus of Lyons, Church Father (140\u2013202 A.D.); <i>Adversus Haereses<\/i>, Bk. 34, Ch.4<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p align=\"left\">\u201cIf you don\u2019t want to talk about it, that\u2019s okay, Grampa.\u201d Thomas jolted back to the present.<\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">\u201cNo, sorry. I was thinking of something else. Where were we? Ah, vaccines, viruses. A virus is simply something really tiny that gets into your bloodstream and makes you sick.\u201d Tessa contorted her nose and lips, making it clear she was a bit confused. \u201cThe point is this. In the end, it was revealed that a lot of the diseases that made people sick, most especially children, babies&#8230; came from injecting them with multiple vaccines that were supposedly to keep them from getting sick in the first place. By the time we realized what they were doing to the global population, it was too late.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">He held his lamp up. \u201cWhat does the plaque say for this one anyway?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>The Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, <\/em><\/span><\/strong><br \/>\n<strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>there is freedom. <\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>(2 Corinthians 3:17)<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p>\u201cHmm,\u201d he snorted.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy this Scripture?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt means that whenever we are forced to do something against our conscience, it almost always is a destructive force of Satan, that ancient liar and murderer. In fact, I can guess what the next exhibit will be\u2026.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>They had reached the final display. Tessa took the lamp and held it up to the placard on the wall. It was much larger than the others. She read slowly:<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>It was then permitted to breathe life into the beast\u2019s image, <br \/>\n<\/em><\/span><\/strong><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>so that the beast\u2019s image could speak and have <br \/>\nanyone who did not worship it put to death. <br \/>\nIt forced all the people, small and great, <br \/>\nrich and poor, free and slave, <br \/>\nto be given a stamped image on their right hands or their foreheads, <br \/>\nso that no one could buy or sell except one <br \/>\nwho had the stamped image of the beast\u2019s name <br \/>\nor the number that stood for its name.<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>His number is six hundred and sixty-six.<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>(Revelation 13:15-18)<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">On the table below was a single photo of a man\u2019s arm with a strange, small mark on it. Above the table, a large, flat black box hung on the wall. Beside it was mounted several smaller, flat black boxes of various sizes. She had never seen a television, computer, or cellphone before, and so had no idea what she was looking at. She turned to ask Thomas what it was all about, but he wasn\u2019t there. She wheeled around to find him sitting down on the bench nearby.<\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">She sat beside him, placing the lamp on the floor. His hands were cupped over his face as though he couldn&#8217;t look anymore. Her eyes scanned his thick fingers and neatly groomed fingernails. She studied a scar on his knuckle and the age mark on his wrist. She glanced at his full head of soft white hair and couldn\u2019t resist reaching up to gently stroke it. She put her arm around him, leaned her head on his shoulder, and sat in silence.<\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">The light from the lamp flickered on the wall as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark room. Only then did she see the enormous mural painted above the display coming into view. It was of a Man on a white horse wearing a crown. His eyes flashed with fire as a sword jutted from His mouth. On His thigh were written the words, <i>\u201cFaithful and True\u201d<\/i> and upon His red cloak, trimmed in gold, <i>\u201cThe Word of God&#8221;<\/i>. As she squinted further into the darkness, she could see an army of other riders behind Him going up, up, towards the ceiling. The painting was extraordinary, like nothing she\u2019d ever seen. It seemed living, dancing with each flicker of the lamp&#8217;s flame.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\" align=\"left\"><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter  wp-image-33182\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/horserider3.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"589\" height=\"320\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/horserider3.jpg 796w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/horserider3-300x163.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/horserider3-768x418.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 589px) 100vw, 589px\" \/><\/p>\n<p>Thomas took a deep breath and folded his hands in front of him, with eyes fixed on the floor. Tessa straightened herself and said, \u201cLook.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He glanced to where she was pointing and, with his mouth slowly opening in awe, took in the specter before him. He began to nod his head and quietly laugh to himself. Then words from deep within began to spill out in a quivering voice. \u201cJesus, Jesus, my Jesus\u2026 yes, praise you, Jesus. Bless you, my Lord, my God and my King\u2026.\u201d Tessa quietly joined his praises and began to weep as the Spirit fell upon them both. Their spontaneous prayer eventually simmered and, once again, they sat in silence. All the toxic images she had earlier seen just seemed to melt away.<\/p>\n<p>Thomas exhaled from the core of his soul and began to speak.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe world was falling apart. War had broken out everywhere. The explosions were terrible. One bomb would drop,\u00a0and a million people were gone. Another would drop and yet another million. Churches were being burned to the ground and the priests\u2026 Oh God\u2026 they had nowhere to hide. If it wasn\u2019t the Jihadists, it was the anarchists; if it wasn\u2019t the anarchists, it was the police. Everyone wanted to kill or arrest them. It was chaos. There were food shortages and, as I said, disease everywhere. Every man for himself. It was then that the angels led several of us to the temporary refuges. Not every Christian, but many of us.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Now, while in Thomas&#8217; youth, any fifteen-year-old who heard that someone was seeing <i>angels<\/i> would think you were either a quack or would riddle you with a hundred questions. But not Tessa\u2019s generation. The saints often visited souls as did the angels. It was as though the veil between heaven and earth had been pulled back, at least a bit. It made him think of that Scripture in the Gospel of John:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;\">Amen, amen, I say to you, you will see the sky opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man. (John 1:51)<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>&#8220;To survive, people fled the cities, which became open battlegrounds between roving gangs. The violence, rape, murder\u2026 it was horrible. Those who escaped formed guarded communities\u2014heavily armed communities. Food was scarce, but at least people were safe, for the most part.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt was then that <em>he<\/em> came.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHim?\u201d she said, pointing to the mural.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, <i>him<\/i>.\u201d He pointed to the base of the painting where the feet of the white horse rested atop a small globe with the number \u201c666\u201d painted on it. \u201cHe was the &#8216;Dark One&#8217;, as we called him. Antichrist. The Lawless One. The Beast. The Son of Perdition. Tradition has many names for him.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy did you call him the Dark One?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Thomas let go a small, uncomfortable laugh, followed by a sigh, as though he were grappling to understand his thoughts.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cEverything was falling apart. <em>And then he came<\/em>. For the first time in months and months, there was peace. Out of nowhere, this army dressed in white came with food, clean water, clothing, even candy. Electric power was restored in some regions, and huge screens were set up in places\u2014like that one on the wall, but much bigger. He would appear on those and speak to us, to the world, about peace. Everything he said sounded right. I found myself believing in him, <i>wanting<\/i> to believe in him. Love, tolerance, peace\u2026 I mean, these things were in the Gospels. Didn\u2019t Our Lord simply want us to love one another and stop judging? Well, order was restored, and the violence quickly ended. For a time, it seemed as though the world was going to be restored. Even the skies were miraculously beginning to clear for the first time in months. We began to wonder if this was not the beginning of the Era of Peace!&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Why didn\u2019t you think so?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBecause he never mentioned Jesus. Well, he did quote him. But then he quoted Muhammad, Buddha, Gandhi, St. Teresa of Calcutta, and <img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft  wp-image-33183\" style=\"margin: 1px 2px 1px 2px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/flamecand-1024x1019.jpg\" width=\"332\" height=\"331\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/flamecand-1024x1019.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/flamecand-150x150.jpg 150w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/flamecand-300x300.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/flamecand-768x765.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/flamecand.jpg 1327w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 332px) 100vw, 332px\" \/>many others. It was so confusing because you couldn\u2019t argue with\u2026 with the truth. But then\u2026\u201d Pointing at the lantern on the floor, he continued. \u201cJust as that flame brings light and warmth to this room, it is still only a fraction of the spectrum of light, of a rainbow, for instance. So too, the Dark One could give just enough light to comfort and warm us\u2014and settle down our growling stomachs\u2014but it was only a half-truth. He never spoke of sin except to say that such talk only divided us. But Jesus came to destroy sin and take it away. That\u2019s when we realized that we could not follow this man. At least some of us.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat do you mean?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThere was a great division among many of the Christians. Those whose god was their stomach accused the rest of us of being the real terrorists of peace, and they left.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd then what?&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThen came the Edict of Peace. It was a new constitution for the world. Nation after nation signed onto it, handing their sovereignty over completely to the Dark One and his council. Then, he <i>forced everyone\u2026<\/i>.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Tessa\u2019s voice joined his as she read from the placard.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><strong><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>&#8230;small and great, <br \/>\nrich and poor, free and slave, <br \/>\nto be given a stamped image on their right hands or their foreheads, <br \/>\nso that no one could buy or sell except one <br \/>\nwho had the stamped image of the beast\u2019s name <br \/>\nor the number that stood for its name.<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p>\u201cSo, what happened if you didn\u2019t take the mark?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe were excluded from everything. From buying fuel for our cars, food for our children, clothes for our backs. We couldn\u2019t do anything. At first, people were terrified. So was I, to be honest. Many took the mark\u2026 even bishops.&#8221; Thomas looked up into the ceiling that was as black as night. &#8220;Oh Lord, have mercy on them.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd you? What did you do, Grampa?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMany Christians went into hiding, but it was useless. They had the technology to find you <i>anywhere. <\/i>Many heroically gave up their lives. I watched one family of twelve children put to death before their parents, one by one. I\u2019ll never forget it. With each blow to their child, you could see the mother pierced to the depth of her soul. But the father\u2026 he kept telling them in the most tender voice, \u2018I love you, but God is your Father. Soon, we will see Him together in Heaven. In one more moment, child, one more moment\u2026&#8217; It was then, Th\u00e9r\u00e8se, that I was ready to give my life for Jesus. I was just seconds from leaping from my hiding place to give myself up for Christ\u2026 <em>when I saw Him<\/em>.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWho? The Dark One?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, Jesus.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou saw <i>Jesus<\/i>?\u201d The way she asked the question betrayed the depth of her love for Him.<\/p>\n<p><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft  wp-image-33188\" style=\"margin: 2px 5px 2px 5px;\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/jesusking3.jpg\" width=\"255\" height=\"441\" \/>\u201cYes. He stood before me, Tessa\u2014exactly as you see Him dressed there.\u201d She returned her gaze to the mural as tears welled up in her eyes.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe said, <i>\u2018I give you a choice: To wear the martyr\u2019s crown or to crown your children and your children\u2019s children with the knowledge of Me.\u2019\u201d <\/i><\/p>\n<p>With that, Tessa burst into sobs. She collapsed onto Grampa\u2019s lap and wept until her body heaved in deep breaths. When at last all became still, she sat up and looked into his deep, tender eyes.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThank you, Grampa. Thank you for choosing\u00a0<em>us.<\/em> Thank you for the gift of Jesus. Thank you for the gift of knowing Him who is my Life and my Breath. Thank you.\u201d They locked eyes, and for a moment, all they could see was Christ in the other.<\/p>\n<p>Then, looking down, Tessa said, \u201cI need to make a confession.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Bishop Thomas Hardon stood up, took out the pectoral Cross from beneath his sweater, and kissed it. Removing the purple stole from his pocket, he kissed it also and placed it over his shoulders. Making the Sign of the Cross, he sat down again and leaned toward her as she whispered in his ear. He thought to himself how confessing such a small sin\u2014if it even was a sin\u2014would have drawn the scorn of a hardened priest. But no. This Era was the time of the Refiner\u2019s Fire. It was the hour for the Bride of Christ to be made perfect, without spot or blemish.<\/p>\n<p>Thomas rose again, laid his hands upon her head and bent over until his lips barely touched her hair. He whispered a prayer in a tongue she did not know and then pronounced the words of absolution as he traced the Sign of the Cross above her. He took her hands, raised her into his arms, and held her tightly.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m ready to go,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMe too, Grampa.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Thomas blew out the lamp and placed it back on the table. As they turned toward the exit, they were greeted by a large sign above, illumined by twelve candles.<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em><strong>In the tender compassion of our God, <br \/>\nthe dawn from on high has broken upon us, <br \/>\nto shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, <br \/>\nand to guide our feet into the way of peace\u2026<br \/>\nThanks be to God who gives us the victory <br \/>\nthrough our Lord Jesus Christ.<\/strong> <\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><span style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"><em>(Luke, 1:78-79; 1 Corinthians 15:57)<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, thanks be to God,\u201d Thomas whispered.<\/p>\n<p align=\"left\">\u00a0<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\" align=\"center\"><em>\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/donations\/\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/07\/Donateovalbtnonbeige.gif\" alt=\"\" width=\"112\" height=\"48\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">\u00a0<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><span style=\"font-family: arial,helvetica,sans-serif;\">To journey with Mark in <strong><em>The <\/em><\/strong><em><strong>Now Word<\/strong><\/em>,<em><br \/>\n<\/em>click on the banner below to <a href=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/subscribe\/\">subscribe<\/a>. <br \/>\nYour email will not be shared with anyone.<br \/>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/subscribe\/\"><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter  wp-image-25916\" src=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/now-word-banner.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"469\" height=\"153\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/now-word-banner.jpeg 850w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/now-word-banner-300x98.jpeg 300w, https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/now-word-banner-768x250.jpeg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 469px) 100vw, 469px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"speaker-mute footnotes_reference_container\"> <div class=\"footnote_container_prepare\"><p><span role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" class=\"footnote_reference_container_label pointer\" onclick=\"footnote_expand_collapse_reference_container_33167_1();\"><h5>Footnotes<\/h5><\/span><span role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" class=\"footnote_reference_container_collapse_button\" style=\"display: none;\" onclick=\"footnote_expand_collapse_reference_container_33167_1();\">[<a id=\"footnote_reference_container_collapse_button_33167_1\">+<\/a>]<\/span><\/p><\/div> <div id=\"footnote_references_container_33167_1\" style=\"\"><table class=\"footnotes_table footnote-reference-container\"><caption class=\"accessibility\"><h5>Footnotes<\/h5><\/caption> <tbody> \r\n\r\n<tr class=\"footnotes_plugin_reference_row\"> <th scope=\"row\" id=\"footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_1\" class=\"footnote_plugin_index pointer\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToAnchor_33167_1('footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_1');\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" class=\"footnote_plugin_link\" ><span class=\"footnote_index_arrow\">&#8593;<\/span>1<\/a><\/th> <td class=\"footnote_plugin_text\">Eucharistic Congress for the bicentennial celebration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, Philadelphia, PA, 1976; cf. <a href=\"http:\/\/www.catholic.org\/news\/national\/story.php?id=57376\">Catholic Online<\/a> (confirmed by Deacon Keith Fournier who was in attendance<\/td><\/tr>\r\n\r\n<tr class=\"footnotes_plugin_reference_row\"> <th scope=\"row\" id=\"footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_2\" class=\"footnote_plugin_index pointer\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToAnchor_33167_1('footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_2');\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" class=\"footnote_plugin_link\" ><span class=\"footnote_index_arrow\">&#8593;<\/span>2<\/a><\/th> <td class=\"footnote_plugin_text\"><strong>&#8220;Now\u2026 we understand that a period of one thousand years is indicated in symbolic language.&#8221;<\/strong> (St. Justin Martyr, <em>Dialogue with Trypho<\/em>, Ch. 81, <em>The Fathers of the Church<\/em>, Christian Heritage)\u00a0St. Thomas Aquinas explained: &#8220;As Augustine says, the last age of the world corresponds to the last stage of a man\u2019s life, which does not last for a fixed number of years as the other stages do, but lasts sometimes as long as the others together, and even longer. Wherefore the last age of the world cannot be assigned a fixed number of years or generations.&#8221;\u00a0(<em>Quaestiones Disputate<\/em>, Vol. II De Potentia, Q. 5, n.5; <a href=\"http:\/\/dhspriory.org\/thomas\/QDdePotentia.htm#5:5\" rel=\"nofollow noopener\">www.dhspriory.org)<\/a> <\/td><\/tr>\r\n\r\n<tr class=\"footnotes_plugin_reference_row\"> <th scope=\"row\" id=\"footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_3\" class=\"footnote_plugin_index pointer\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToAnchor_33167_1('footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_3');\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" class=\"footnote_plugin_link\" ><span class=\"footnote_index_arrow\">&#8593;<\/span>3<\/a><\/th> <td class=\"footnote_plugin_text\">cf. <a href=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/fatima-and-the-great-shaking\/\"><em>Fatima, and the Great Shaking<\/em><\/td><\/tr>\r\n\r\n<tr class=\"footnotes_plugin_reference_row\"> <th scope=\"row\" id=\"footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_4\" class=\"footnote_plugin_index pointer\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToAnchor_33167_1('footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_4');\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" class=\"footnote_plugin_link\" ><span class=\"footnote_index_arrow\">&#8593;<\/span>4<\/a><\/th> <td class=\"footnote_plugin_text\">cf. <a href=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/is-a-fetus-a-person\/\"><em>Is the Fetus a<\/em> <em>Person?<\/em><\/a><\/td><\/tr>\r\n\r\n<tr class=\"footnotes_plugin_reference_row\"> <th scope=\"row\" id=\"footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_5\" class=\"footnote_plugin_index pointer\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToAnchor_33167_1('footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_5');\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" class=\"footnote_plugin_link\" ><span class=\"footnote_index_arrow\">&#8593;<\/span>5<\/a><\/th> <td class=\"footnote_plugin_text\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.numberofabortions.com\/\">numberofabortions.com<\/a><\/td><\/tr>\r\n\r\n<tr class=\"footnotes_plugin_reference_row\"> <th scope=\"row\" id=\"footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_6\" class=\"footnote_plugin_index pointer\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToAnchor_33167_1('footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_6');\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" class=\"footnote_plugin_link\" ><span class=\"footnote_index_arrow\">&#8593;<\/span>6<\/a><\/th> <td class=\"footnote_plugin_text\">&#8220;Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, the entire world&#8217;s population could fit within the 500 square miles (1,300 square kilometers) of Los Angeles.&#8221; <em>\u2014<a href=\"https:\/\/www.nationalgeographic.com\/news\/2011\/10\/111031-population-7-billion-earth-world-un-seven\/\">National Geographic<\/a>, <\/em>October 30th, 2011<\/td><\/tr>\r\n\r\n<tr class=\"footnotes_plugin_reference_row\"> <th scope=\"row\" id=\"footnote_plugin_reference_33167_1_7\" class=\"footnote_plugin_index pointer\" onclick=\"footnote_moveToAnchor_33167_1('footnote_plugin_tooltip_33167_1_7');\"><a role=\"button\" tabindex=\"0\" class=\"footnote_plugin_link\" ><span class=\"footnote_index_arrow\">&#8593;<\/span>7<\/a><\/th> <td class=\"footnote_plugin_text\">&#8220;100,000 people die from hunger or its immediate consequences every day; and every five seconds, a child dies from hunger. All of this takes place in a world that already produces enough food to feed every child, woman and man and could feed 12 billion people&#8221; \u2014Jean Ziegler, UN Special Rapporteu, October 26th, 2007; <a href=\"https:\/\/news.un.org\/en\/story\/2007\/10\/237362-un-independent-rights-expert-calls-five-year-freeze-biofuel-production\">news.un.org<\/a><\/td><\/tr>\r\n\r\n <\/tbody> <\/table> <\/div><\/div><script type=\"text\/javascript\"> function footnote_expand_reference_container_33167_1() { jQuery('#footnote_references_container_33167_1').show(); jQuery('#footnote_reference_container_collapse_button_33167_1').text('\u2212'); } function footnote_collapse_reference_container_33167_1() { jQuery('#footnote_references_container_33167_1').hide(); jQuery('#footnote_reference_container_collapse_button_33167_1').text('+'); } function footnote_expand_collapse_reference_container_33167_1() { if (jQuery('#footnote_references_container_33167_1').is(':hidden')) { footnote_expand_reference_container_33167_1(); } else { footnote_collapse_reference_container_33167_1(); } } function footnote_moveToReference_33167_1(p_str_TargetID) { footnote_expand_reference_container_33167_1(); var l_obj_Target = jQuery('#' + p_str_TargetID); if (l_obj_Target.length) { jQuery( 'html, body' ).delay( 0 ); jQuery('html, body').animate({ scrollTop: l_obj_Target.offset().top - window.innerHeight * 0.2 }, 380); } } function footnote_moveToAnchor_33167_1(p_str_TargetID) { footnote_expand_reference_container_33167_1(); var l_obj_Target = jQuery('#' + p_str_TargetID); if (l_obj_Target.length) { jQuery( 'html, body' ).delay( 0 ); jQuery('html, body').animate({ scrollTop: l_obj_Target.offset().top - window.innerHeight * 0.2 }, 380); } }<\/script>","protected":false,"gt_translate_keys":[{"key":"rendered","format":"html"}]},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>\u00a0 A Short Story by Mark Mallett \u00a0 (First published February 21st, 2018.) \u00a0 2088 A.D&#8230;.\u00a0Fifty-five years after The Great Storm. \u00a0 HE drew a deep breath as he stared at the oddly twisted, soot-covered metal roof of The Last Museum\u2014named so, because it simply would be. Tightly closing his eyes, a flood of memories [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false,"gt_translate_keys":[{"key":"rendered","format":"html"}]},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,44],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-33167","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-daily-journal","category-era-of-peace"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v27.3 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>The Last Museum - The Now Word<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/the-last-museum\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Last Museum - The Now Word\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"\u00a0 A Short Story by Mark Mallett \u00a0 (First published February 21st, 2018.) \u00a0 2088 A.D....\u00a0Fifty-five years after The Great Storm. \u00a0 HE drew a deep breath as he stared at the oddly twisted, soot-covered metal roof of The Last Museum\u2014named so, because it simply would be. 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