Murphy's Law - 2. Baptism

Too many days pass without a victory and Murphy sees he must do something. Not only is the clan nearly out of food, but the new breeder can't be reborn without a victory. The eyes of all the men and boys are on their Big Mahaf and even though no one outside the circle ever sees the eyes of the women Murphy is all too aware they also await his action. As always in such situations Murphy falls back on what he's learned from Watt and formulates a plan involving his most trusted warriors Molloy, Malone and Moran. The previous evening he summoned them one at a time so as not to arouse the suspicion of the neighboring clan he's targeted and to each whispered his instructions. Now today the moment is right and Murphy gives the long, wheezing fart that alerts his men the attack signal is imminent. This attracts the attention of the Big Mahaf in one of the neighboring clans, the tall, red-nosed one that Murphy had a previous exchange with, but since that clan would not be involved in the coming raid Murphy doesn't care. Covertly eying his trusty trio Murphy sees they are ready and gives the shout, "Now!"

Immediately Molloy and Moran leave their places which are quickly sealed behind them, and rush to the spot held by Malone on another line, where, by suddenly bringing to bear superior numbers, they effect a breakthrough. Moran grabs an enemy breeder and drags him off, covered by Molloy and Malone. When the line closes, however, with the raid complete, Malone is no more, having been felled in the action and abandoned. Malone's demise is hard but Murphy makes the best of the situation. He has an enemy breeder at the cost of a warrior and that's a win even if the warrior was one of Malone's caliber, who, truth be told, had of late, ever since acquiring the hole in his neck, been losing his effectiveness anyway. Murphy has, then, the "victory for our men" specified by the Mothers as the necessary prelude to the birth of a son. The victim's spine is adroitly snapped and he is rolled, alive, down the backs of the women and delivered to the less than tender mercies of the bright-eyed children. Molloy and Moran resume their places in line, the women smarten their step and abruptly change direction, moaning eerily. The boys stand back to clap, the men lay down a bass cadence, and the children, whose job now is to slowly butcher their prey, cap the oratorio with peals of laughter.

Later, the evening meal is doubly significant. Not only have they caught and killed a breeder but this day will a new one be born into Clan Murphy. Joy is in the air. A festive spirit prevails. Murphy beams upon his people, then happens to glance at Watt as Watt turns away from the food being offered him. Indeed, Murphy now sees Watt hasn't even removed his skullcap. No food, no drink. It won't be long now, thinks Murphy as he watches Watt curl into a ball, his back to the clan, eyes shut tight. The situation has become critical and Murphy will have to act.

If only Murphy knew that Watt would Tree or Rock. These are the mysterious and sacred words handed down by the Law to describe the three different manifestations of Madness. When a man or woman curls up in the marl and refuses to move it's called Rock. When they freeze in whatever posture they happen to be in at the time it's called Tree. When they suddenly bolt and run off into the surrounding clans it's called Run. Some clans won't kill Runners for fear of contagion, but other clans, perhaps more desperate for food, lack such compunction. To Murphy, though, the problem is one of escape. If Watt Runs the clan will lose its chance to partake of a great hero. Therefore, Murphy must harvest Watt before Watt goes completely Mad.

But not today. Today is a day to celebrate. Today a new Tukisleker is to be born. And now that the feast is done the Mothers begin to shout and beat the boy who, days prior, had shyly avoided his chieftain's eye. The girl who'd been collecting menstrual blood now crawls between the haunches of two women and smears her gore on their adjoining legs, the right leg of one, the left of the other. Seeing this, Murphy throws back his head and piercingly ululates. This is the sign for the men of the surrounding clans to turn their backs, and all the children within earshot to lie face down in the muck and hide their eyes on their forearms. When the commotion in the circle flags, several of the men stand in a line and strike up a chorus of flatulent noises. Deeply solemn they vibrate their tongues between their lips, blow air into the crooks of their elbows, or flap their arms on hands pinioned in their armpits. Some provide a bass beat while others a squeaking melody. The men who don't play in the band slash their own arms and legs and drip the blood into their skullcups. The women start to moan and cry out as though in childbirth, and Pozzo positions himself between the two blood-smeared legs. He stoops down and pushes the two women aside.

"Thus do I part the labia," he cries. "Enter, my son, into the world of men!"

The wailing of the women rises to fever pitch and the bruised head and shoulders of the pubescent boy appear at Pozzo's feet. Pozzo hooks the boy under his arms and drags him completely out of the circle. The women fall silent as Pozzo stands the boy up, loops a human hair rope around the boy's neck and leads him up to Murphy who has been watching nearby.

"This is my son," shouts Murphy as he puts his hand on the boy's head. "Born into the world of men!"

Those who'd been cutting their arms now smear their blood on the boy who stares wild-eyed at the Big Mahaf.

" Behold," that luminary tells the boy loudly, indicating the noisemakers with a nod of his head. "Hear ye the voice of the Unnamable!"

Three men behind the boy stack themselves on their backs one atop the other in the filth. Pozzo covers the men with an insulating skin and then several hands lift the boy and place him prone upon the living altar. Pozzo straddles the boy's chest and with both hands stretches out the boy's penis. As Murphy steps up he holds in his hand a sharp bone knife. Seeing it, the boy starts to whimper but some of the men cover his eyes and mouth with their hands. Murphy bends down and saws away at the boy's foreskin. The boy bucks and jerks but is held fast. Another man catches every drop of blood in a skullcup. Next the Mahaf lowers his mouth over the initiate's member and gathers up the loose prepuce using his teeth and tongue. Raising his head he intones, "Thus do I release you from the Mothers."

The men release the boy who swoons and has to be supported. He is hauled to his feet in front of Murphy, all the while bleeding into the skullcup which is still held beneath his penis. Pozzo slaps the boy sharply to bring him to full consciousness. As the boy looks up, Murphy shows him the foreskin in his mouth and then begins to chew.

"Behold," he says. "I give you life."

The man with the skullcup filled with the boy's blood hands it to Murphy, who, mumbling mysteriously, holds it aloft, then extends it to the boy.

"Drink," he orders. "For this is the blood of the Unnamable."

The boy takes the skullcup in both hands, drains its contents, then hands it back to Murphy who hangs it round the boy's neck.

Pozzo now comes forward and, pointing at Murphy, says, "Kneel now, before the unnamed god of whom you have heard so much."

The boy kneels, bug-eyed, and Murphy smiles down at him. Per the instructions of Pozzo the boy kisses his Noble Leader's glans.

"You have done well," says Murphy. "You have not cried out. Be fruitful, and soon you will be a man. And your name shall be," and here, as both he and Pozzo lean toward the boy, the Big Mahaf continues in a whisper, "Shonso".

Then both men straighten up and Pozzo whispers "Shonso" to the man next to him, who whispers the name to the man next to him, and so on. While all the men are thus learning the boy's name, they once again strike up the wind ensemble, tootling and wheezing. The Big Honcho summons the other boys and enjoins them to care for their new brother. After all have learned the new boy's name the men begin the coda of their symphony, saluting with flatulent sounds their Big Mahaf who trumpets back at them with his arse. At length, the noisemakers cease their efforts and everyone assumes their accustomed places. The men of the neighboring clans no longer avert their gaze, and the children all around are allowed to open their eyes. Murphy returns to his human throne followed by Pozzo leading Shonso by the human hair rope around his neck. Pozzo must now instruct Shonso in the duties of Tukisleker, Keeper of the Sacred Bags, Keeper of the Holy Shit. This is always the duty of the youngest boy until he marries after which the boys once more take turns being Tukisleker. Murphy watches the lesson, quite satisfied. It has gone well. Pozzo especially played his role and there was no trouble from Watt. It has been a good day. But suddenly he has an odd feeling. At first he cannot identify it, then realizes it is pity, an ever so slight, ever so short moment of pity for the Other People who must continue their journey into the dark night of ignorance. Then, sighing, he shakes it off and with a smirk slides into the sleep of the just.