22.

Sightings

Tuesday, March 26 - 7:30p.m.

“Okay, Mike, here’s how it’s going to work.” Steven Fitzgerald explained to Mike as Jennifer looked on. “You’ve already given us enough background material for the Human Interest part of the show. Now all that’s left are the action shots. We’ve got permission to have our crew set up in the Emergency Room at Unity Hospital for three days. We’re going to wait for trauma patients to come into the E.R. where you’ll be waiting. Of course, the regular doctors and staff will be there too. The doctors will make their prognosis and treat the patient. Your job will be to try to heal a patient with your psychic abilities without interfering. Do not, I repeat, do not get in the way of the doctors or inhibit their ability to do their job, otherwise we’ll have a huge lawsuit on our hands. Understand? Of course, since these are real emergencies, we won’t be able to predict what will happen. Our crew will film as much as they can and we’ll edit the content and pick out the most convincing cases to air. Any questions?”

“Just one. What if nothing happens?”

Fitzgerald chuckled. “If nothing happens, we won’t air the show and you’ve wasted my time. But don’t feel bad, Mike, it happens all the time. Even the best psychics choke under pressure.”

“I wish you would stop calling me that.”

“What would you prefer I call it?” Fitzgerald had dealt with a lot of ‘psychics’ for his show. He had seen enough to know that you couldn’t write them all off. But it sure wasn’t a good sign when they tried to set you up for a ‘no show’ before filming had even begun.

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel very psychic, that’s all.”

“Just be yourself, Mike. Relax. Don’t be nervous. You’ll look phony if you act artificial.”

The hospital staff had been briefed and went about their business of saving lives. A normal stream of sick and injured people came and went, but Mike didn’t move. He sat in a corner and looked glum.

Tuesday, March 26 - 10:30p.m.

After three hours, Mike still sat on the same hard chair in the E.R. waiting room with a look of depression on his face. Jennifer sat with him, but she had long since given up trying to hold a conversation. The Sightings film crew sipped coffee and chatted, waiting for Mike to make a move. Fitzgerald had this nagging feeling that he was wasting the studio’s time.

Behind the nurse’s desk, a voice came over the CB radio, “Betty, we’ve got a D.O.A. coming in. Be there in five. Over.”

A woman who sat at the emergency room desk picked up a microphone, squeezed it and said, “Roger, that.”

Mike stood up from his chair and shouted, “No!”

The film crew turned to watch him. Jennifer said, “What do you mean, no, Mike?”

“No. It’s not her time.”

“What do you mean, Mike? Whose time?”

He walked over to the outside doors and stood looking out. Sensing that something was happening, the film crew got their cameras ready. The ambulance pulled up to the door. Two EMTs took a stretcher from the back of the van and walked in the door. On the stretcher was a small girl with pallid white skin and blue lips. Trailing behind the stretcher was a hysterical woman, crying, “Oh My God, please help her. Help my little girl. What am I going to do? I told her not to play with the outlets.” A nurse intercepted the mother and tried to get her to calm down enough to fill out paperwork.

The doctor in charge was at the door to meet the ambulance. He felt for the girl’s pulse, shined a flashlight in her lifeless eyes, then asked the EMTs, “How long?”

“No rhythm for ten minutes.”

“What have you tried?”

“The usual. Twenty-five of Atropine. Defibrillators. CPR. She’s not responding to anything.” After a short examination, the doctor pronounced, “Time of death, 10:38pm.” Then he pulled the sheet over the girl’s head.

“No.” Mike said. He walked over to the dead girl. “It’s not her time yet.”

The doctor stepped aside. He knew the hospital was being paid big money for this farce. He also knew there was nothing this kook could do to save this little girl now. She was beyond help.

Mike pulled the sheet back down from the girl’s head. He placed his right hand under the girl’s neck and lifted her limp head from the Gurney. “Open your eyes,” he commanded.

With a sudden gasp, the frail body of the girl took a deep gulp of air and her eyes flew open. The EMTs and doctor jerked back with surprise and maybe a little fear. Her body went limp again and she started sobbing, “Mommy. I want my mommy.”

The girl’s mother came rushing to her side and said, “Oh, Annie. Mommy’s here.”

“Mommy, mommy,” she cried as her arms flew around her mother’s neck. Then the girl’s face took on a serene smile. “Mommy, I was dead. I could fly. I saw Jesus. Look. There he is!” The girl pointed to Mike. Everyone stared at him: the doctor, the EMTs, Annie’s mother, and Jennifer.

He shrugged and started to back away. “It wasn’t her time.”

Suddenly everyone was moving. As the doctor started frantically examining the girl, Fitzgerald ran over to one of the cameramen. “You got that on tape?” he asked.

“Hell, yeah. I got the whole thing.”

“Holy shit.” Jennifer said as she scribbled on her notepad.

The cameramen stared at Mike with their mouths open. When he saw them, he shook his head in denial and bolted out of the door of the hospital’s emergency room.

When Jennifer realized he had left, she went outside to find him. She found him pacing in the parking lot, his head hung low. “What on Earth’s wrong, Mike? You just saved that girl’s life. The doctor pronounced her dead, and you brought her back to life. You’re a hero.”

“I didn’t heal the girl, God did. Don’t you understand that?” Are you as dull as the rest? “People are only interested in miracles. Seeing magic. Mumbo-jumbo. Now people will start thinking I’m someone special. They’ll start thinking I’m God. God in three persons. Or maybe I’m the fourth Person.”

“Mike, you are someone special.”

“No more special than you or any of the people in that hospital.”

“That’s not true. No one else could have done what you did tonight.”

“I didn’t do anything, Jennifer. It was God, not me. So what if She chooses to do Her work through me? God could work through you as well, if you let it happen.”

“What’s wrong with people thinking you’re special, Mike?”

“Because we’re all special. Don’t you understand? We’re all emissaries of God. We’re all children of God. We just get so caught up in daily life that we forget how special we are. We forget that we’re surrounded by God and enveloped by Her love. We don’t take the time to connect with God.”

He paused to consider how to explain his point, then he began again. “Two thousand years ago, a man named Jesus was created by God and born on this Earth. He was an ordinary man, no different from you and me and I can prove it. The only thing was, he remembered that we are all God. He came to this Earth with a special message, a message of love. He tried to tell people, but they wouldn’t listen. To get their attention, he did a few miracles. Once he understood that this reality is an artificial training ground for humanity, he was able to manipulate it. Multiply loaves and fishes. Walk on Water. He thought that if he did miracles, people would start to listen to his message. But guess what happened instead?”

She still didn’t see what had made him so upset. “What?”

“They still didn’t listen to his message. They still thought of themselves as separate from God. They were still just as blind, still just as ignorant. They wanted more miracles, more magic. It was easier to convince themselves Jesus was the only son of God, even God Himself, than it was to listen to what he was saying. Instead of listening to Jesus’ message, guess whose message they listened to?”

“Mike, you’re scaring me.”

He was pacing now, and with each new point he would pause to make sure she was listening. He would stare at her, hoping to see a sign that his ranting was making sense to her. Someone had to understand. “They listened to Paul’s message. Paul, the Roman soldier who went around persecuting the early Christians decades after the death of Jesus until he was converted by a religious experience. At least that’s what he called it. Given how he lost the big picture so bad, I wonder what really happened on that road to Damascus. Paul based his message entirely on what he learned from the early church, which was based on what the second-generation of disciples thought they knew about Jesus. But I kept trying to tell them . . . ” He caught himself. “Jesus told them they were missing the mark. Do you know what’s the most repeated theme in the gospels?”

“No,” she replied. This was the first time he had told her so much detail about his past life and she was fascinated.

“Jesus rebuking the disciples for their stupidity and misunderstanding. Matthew 15:17. Matthew 16:9. Matthew 16:23. Mark 4:13. Mark 6:52. Mark 7:17. Mark 8:17. Mark 9:32. Mark 16:14. Luke 9:45. John 8:47. And on and on and on. They didn’t understand Jesus, and Paul based his entire church on this secondhand and thirdhand misinformation.”

“What did they get wrong? What were they misunderstanding? Mike, I want to understand.”

He looked at her with hope, then replied quietly, “Jesus was not God. I was not a God then, and I’m not a God now.” Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone. “Jesus was a man with a message. And the message went by the wayside because people didn’t want to listen, they wanted miracles and signs. My point is, now it’s happening all over again. They’re making me out to be some kind of deity.” He paused and looked back at the door to the Emergency Room. “My message is going to get lost all over again.”

“Mike, if you’re the same as everyone else, why did God choose you for the miracles?”

That threw him. Since this whole thing had begun, he often wondered why God had picked him. He hadn’t asked for this assignment. He had told Joe to call Ozzy Osbourne. His head and shoulders slumped. He looked exhausted, but it was more of an emotional exhaustion than a physical one. “I don’t know.”

But she knew. She walked over and lifted his face so she could look into his eyes. “I think, Mike, that it’s because when there’s a need, you believe. Your doubt disappears and you almost shine with self-conviction. You tell me you’re no one special; you’re just like everyone else, but I saw what happened when you brought that girl back to life. You want to know what it is? When other people doubt themselves, you believe. It’s just like when you get up on stage; this shy self-doubting man spreads his wings and assumes a new role. For that magic moment, you believe in yourself. You believe in God and the magic of life. You cast off your limitations and let God’s light shine directly on you. You allow it to happen.”

He knew she was right. “Even so, I don’t want people to believe in me, I want them to hear my message. And now here I am, back on Earth, and I’m screwing it up worse than ever. Don’t you see? Everything is my fault and it’s happening all over again.”

“What in the world are you talking about? What’s your fault?”

“Two thousand years of bloodshed. Millions of people fighting and killing in my name. The holy wars. The Crusades. The Reformation. The Inquisition. Do you know that a hundred thousand innocent women were killed as witches in my name? All because of what I did in that past life. Do you know how it feels to be responsible for a hundred million deaths?” Stooped over, he put his right hand to his chest as if holding back a mass of vomit in his gut. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

She put her arms around him. “None of that was your fault. You didn’t teach killing, Mike, you taught love. You’re not responsible; it’s the people who came after you.”

He shook his head. “Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. Maybe I should have been more politically correct, played their stupid political games and worked for social reforms. Maybe I should have spent less time blaming and prophesying and healing and converting people. Maybe I should have spent more time teaching. Maybe I should have had my teachings written down.” He lifted his eyes up to look at her face, which was both sympathetic and understanding.

“That’s in the past and you can’t change that. All you can do is move forward and work for change. So what are you going to do about it?”

He stood up straight and took a few deep breaths. “Well, I’m been writing that book. What else can I do?”

“A book is going to take two years to publish. No one’s going to hear your message unless you start saying it. Maybe you should start giving talks after your gigs instead of just healing.”

He hugged her. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll talk to the Plaza about tomorrow night’s gig.” Then his eyes became distant as he remembered looking at the Internet pictures of Jerusalem’s Golden Gate. There was something about that bricked-up wall that drew his attention. There was something he had to do. It was on the edge of his mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. He remembered that the demon, Legion, had said something vague about it, but he couldn’t remember what. He wished he had tried to pump him for more information.

She saw the distance in his blue eyes and asked, “Mike, what is it?”

“There’s something else I’ve got to do.”

“What’s that?”

“I need to revisit my past. I need to go to Israel.”

Wednesday, March 27 - 10:30p.m.

The band noticed that the crowds at the Plaza were getting bigger, and as much as they hated to admit it, people were coming to see Mike. Much to their chagrin, he had arranged to do both a talk and a healing or two after each gig.

After the gig and before his healing, Mike explained to The Original Artists that he had airplane tickets to Israel, which meant he had to bow out of their final gig at the Plaza, two weeks from Saturday.

Steve was pissed. “What do you mean, you can’t make it?”

“Look, man, I know things have been tense between us lately, but just cut me some slack. I need to do this.”

They had wanted to know if he would be back for the next set of contracts, but he hadn’t been able to give them an answer.

After dinner, the band sat discussing if they should find another singer or cancel the Saturday gig. A stranger dressed in a black collared shirt and an awkward green tie approached the table where they sat. “Did I hear you say you were looking for a new singer? What happened to the old one?” The man had a southern drawl.

“Dipshit’s canceling on us.” Steve said. “Why? Are you a singer?”

The man smiled. The thought of him becoming a rock and roll singer himself was amusing. No, he would not become Satan’s pawn. “Me? No. I was just curious. I’ve heard rumors about him. Where’s he going?”

Steve eyed the stranger suspiciously. “Says he’s going on some stupid vacation to Israel. Hey, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Just a fan,” replied Jeremy Jenkins.

Excerpt from The Gospel According to Mike

He said, “The only place to look for the answers is inside you, for that is where God resides. This world is an illusion, an illustration, a cartoon. Nothing you can focus on with your physical senses matters. Therefore, the answers can only be found by disregarding and transcending the limitations of the physical flesh and the senses. That means meditating, finding the silence within your own mind. That means discovering the soul. That means contacting God. God is always there waiting for you.”