The God Complex: The Book Of Alan, Destroyer Of Worlds

Addendum.

The early morning sun shone brightly through the private courtyard of the Vatican. The new dawn's rays reflected off the dancing waters of a fountain depicting the victorious death of Abaddon and cast a million shards of soft, warm light onto Susan's face. This was her favourite place to walk in the morning, a brief, peaceful moment of tranquility to collect her thoughts before her duties as Saviour of Humanity began again in earnest.

She sipped her camomile and admired the sprawling olive tree that cast it's cooling shadow onto the ornate mosaic tiled pathway portraying her at Speakers' Corner in Hyde Park. Its intricate twist of roots, spiralling to the floor seemed as old as time, yet bright and alive with life. She resolved to be that olive tree and twist her roots into this new world, deep enough to stand the test of time.

She motioned to the ceremonial guard, resplendent in golden armour, who nodded curtly and brought in a procession of the sick and the lame: children, the elderly, animals, each inflicted with ailments desperate for Susan to bless and cure. She made the sign of the budgerigar in flight and kissed them lightly on the forehead, instantly calming them as they were led dancing back out of the courtyard. When the last was blessed, she picked up the remains of her camomile tea and entered the Apostolistic Palace.

Adorned with her sacred cloak and papal hat of pure white, shimmering green with emeralds, her advisor walked in with his clipboard and threw himself at her feet.

'O Sacred one, we have received word that the population is increasing in line with our most optimistic predictions, soon the devastation of the holy war will be nothing more than a distant memory.'

'Good,' said Susan, walking out of her chambers with her advisor shuffling desperately to keep up with her. 'What else?'

'The first democratic vote was a success, with 100% voter turnout, though there were pockets of peaceful protests from men who believe they should also be allowed a vote.'

'They may have their vote back when they learn to respect it.'

'Quite right, O Sacred one. Also, the Madam Prime Minister now wishes to discuss with you the names of her all female cabinet.'

'Excellent. Put her in for two o'clock. Anything else?'

'The Lord Alan, O Sacred one - he urgently wishes to speak with you.'

'He can wait,' commanded Susan, marching on.

Two ceremonial guards opened the ancient oak doors for her and she strode meaningfully into the balcony room. A team immediately rushed around her, straightening her gown and neatening her hair. When they were done, a ceremonial guard dressed in royal blue opened an old, glossed-black wooden case to reveal a polished silver dagger on a bed of red velvet. Susan picked up the dagger and walked out onto the balcony overlooking St Darwin's Square to a cacophony of praise.

The mid-morning sun coloured her world sepia as she gazed out across the sea of women gathered each day to give thanks. It was her destiny to lead her people into the new world, to train them and prepare them for when the time comes to start again - this was simply another test - not of God, but of herself, only she can lead her people to salvation. Of that much she was sure.

She raised the silver dagger to the clear sky, letting the sun dance off it to the rapture of the waiting crowd. Her eyes wandered beyond the masses to the garden of KENT COUNTY COUNCIL 4B that was in full bloom - it's pink roses were always in full bloom. It's winding maze of hedgerows, designed from her balcony alone to look like the smiling face of Monkey stroking his beard, radiated in the vivid greens of springtime, giving her all the assurance she'd ever need.

'My People. There is much work to be done, but do it we shall. So begins the era of Womankind!'

She calmed the baying crowd to continue. 'Much sacrifice has been made to get us here. All of us have lost someone in the great war but we must find the courage to build our new world in their memory - we are the givers of life and only we can nurture the new generation in my image so our species may never have to suffer our hardships.'

'In Susan we trust,' came a call from the crowd. 'Susan the Worthy!' they chanted as she basked in the warmth of the sun. She held her silver dagger up once more in salute and retreated to the cool stone of the palace.

'O Sacred one,' approached her advisor, on all fours. 'It is the Lord Alan again, he is in dire need of your help.'

Susan placed the silver dagger back into its red velvet bed and gently closed the box. 'Perhaps tomorrow,' she replied, eventually. 'Now leave me.'

Susan waited for the room to clear and the dust to settle before turning and leaving by a secret back door that led down a spiralling stone staircase, discarding her ceremonial gown and papal hat she bounded down the steps and out into a small garden concealed by towering walls and covered in a creeping Jasmine that filled her senses. She straightened her summer dress and walked the narrow path to the small wooden door painted green many years ago. Without a glance, she opened the rusted metal latch and walked out onto a quiet leafy cul-de-sac lined with quaint little bungalows. The lush rolling fields of Kent smiled back at her as she walked the familiar street.

In the distance a gentle noise of laughter filled her ears. As she neared she saw through the open garage door, Monkey crouching next to a partially deconstructed motorbike, grease coating his hands as he analysed the gearbox, explaining something out of earshot to a beaming five year old girl who crouched next to him, a steak of grease on her perfect nose - she has his eyes.

Susan breathed in another perfect spring morning and opened the gate with a cheery 'hello'. It was the start of another perfect day. With any luck, tomorrow would be just as perfect.

The End.