Showdown Read online

“Project Showdown happened. It’s always been about this moment.”

  They prayed for God’s wisdom and above all the power of Christ to open the eyes of Billy’s heart. But they both knew that the choice was Billy’s alone.

  Most of the children had taken their seats. They wore their customary uniforms—blue shorts and white shirts—most neatly groomed and giving the left side of the auditorium both a wide berth and numerous stares.

  Darcy sat on the left, near the back, shifting on her pew. A red rash covered her face. Paul’s as well. Stevie sat with them . . .

  Stevie had gone down as well? So Billy had found three converts in just over one day. Samuel felt bumps rise on his neck. But the rules were clear—a two-thirds majority was required to prevail. Twenty-four students would have to vote against Christine for Billy’s debate to succeed.

  Samuel eased into a seat near the back, across the room from Darcy. Murmurs filled the hall. The monks whispered one to the other. Two dusty shafts of light descended from skylights, highlighting the podiums.

  The curtain to the stage’s left moved, and the room quieted. The heavy maroon cloth parted and his father walked into the light. Samuel’s heart jumped at the sight. That’s my father! To them he is the director, but to me he is Father. He felt like standing up and yelling,Hey, Billy, that’s my father and you’d better do what he says!

  Of course that would be out of order, but Samuel let the pride swell unchecked.

  David walked to the center of the platform wearing a long black robe with a white collar, like a schoolmaster might wear at graduation ceremonies. He looked over the children for a moment. Stillness descended on the auditorium. The overseers sat, rigid; the children stared at David, scarcely breathing. Samuel’s father had the air of authority that insisted on stillness.

  And then his father’s voice filled the auditorium. He spoke without a microphone. None was required in the hall. “Good morning, scholars, teachers. Thank you for coming. As you know, we are gathered for a debate.”

  He measured each of the students as he spoke, showing no visible reaction to the division in the class, but Samuel knew his father’s heart was pained.

  “This is our first debate. It’s the first time a student has openly questioned my authority and rejected the rules. Some of you are wondering why we don’t just put these dissidents out. Why not expel them, you ask? That’s how it works in the world. When a man commits a crime, he is put away. When a child is disobedient, he is reprimanded. But here, we groom children not to follow the world’s systems, but to change the world.”

  He cleared his throat.“The power each of you wield is beyond your comprehension. Within this room we indeed have the power to turn this world upside down. It’s a great dream I have given everything for.”

  He raised a finger into the air. “But one rule of Project Showdown supersedes even that desire of mine, and that is the rule that you yourselves be given the complete freedom to choose your own ways. And this,my friends, brings us to today’s debate.”

  He paused and scanned the room. “Billy has questioned the integrity of the third rule and will now debate the matter with Christine. You, my young scholars, will decide today whose argument you will follow. Listen carefully. Remember your lessons well. Think of your purpose. Measure all that you hear against the standard of truth you have always known. The future of this monastery is in your hands.”

  He stepped back and sat in the chair reserved for him.

  The curtains on both ends of the stage parted. Billy stepped from the left; Christine from the right. A few coughs disturbed the auditorium. His father crossed his legs and looked at Darcy and the small band of dissidents.

  Billy and Christine stepped up onto footstools that allowed them to stand tall behind the podiums. They were dressed in the blue robes they all wore for choir. The debate had no set structure but would not exceed an hour. At the end of the hour, the debaters and all overseers would be ushered from the room, and the students would be left alone to determine their own fate.

  Samuel drew a slow breath, and as he did Christine brought her hand up, level with her shoulder. She extended her index finger to Billy.

  “Billy,” Christine cried shrilly, and some children flinched. “I accuse you of distorting the meaning of the third rule, the foundational rule by which all in the monastery live, the undeniable truth that all love comes from our Creator. I accuse you of heresy, and I challenge you to argue your heresy here, before the assembly, so that we may know what is the truth.”

  This was the track they had decided on last night. Christine would control the debate from the start by framing the third rule of writing: All love comes from the Creator, which in turn meant it would lead to the Creator. Surely the students wouldn’t question the necessity of following God’s will. Identifying his will was the question. Was it found in the monastery rules, or was Billy right in forsaking those rules? This was the real issue.

  Samuel was proud of Christine already. She was using strong words, worthy of any overseer.

  Christine kept her hand outstretched, waiting Billy’s response. But he said nothing.

  She spoke again, distinctly, biting off each word. “Tell us, Billy, what is the precise meaning of the third rule?” She lowered her arm.

  Billy rolled his eyes in exasperation and let his head loll Christine’s way. “The third rule, please. You say that, the third rule, as if you spoke about the earth’s end.”

  He chuckled. “The precise meaning? Yes, well, that’s the whole problem, isn’t it? There is no precise meaning. Only vague ambiguities that leave a dozen doors wide open for interpretation. And everyone in this room knows it. We’ve hinged our lives on the ambiguities of another man’s word. Even the Bible, on which all of our rules are supposedly based, requires human interpretation, which is subject to ambiguous conclusions.” He looked out at the students and grinned. “That’s right,my fellow scholars. If you ask me, it’s clear that ambiguity does indeed exist in the rules they’ve been shoving down our throats all these years.”

  Samuel glanced at a student near him, Sharon,who was listening intently.

  “Ambiguous,” Christine said, smiling. “A clever word. But let’s be a little more specific, shall we? Surely you don’t expect such intelligent children to fall for your cute phrasing. We need some content. Give us some content that we can weigh and measure. Perhaps you could answer one simple question directly?”

  Billy flashed a patronizing grin. Samuel had half a mind to walk up there and smack it from his face.

  Christine pressed. “The third rule emphatically states that all love comes from the Creator, leading directly to the implicit assertion that all love leads to the Creator. After all, if the Creator is the sole source of love, then how can one show any love which doesn’t in turn lead to the Creator? Answer—he can’t. I believe even you, Billy, will agree with the face value of this statement. Am I correct?”

  Samuel was surprised to see the boy nod. Although he still wore that stupid grin.

  “Good. Then we can at least begin in the arms of sanity,” Christine said. “Trying to argue that love does not come from the Creator would be rather stupid, unless of course you don’t believe in a Creator at all, in which case we would have to educate you by slogging through the preponderance of evidence that long ago settled this small-minded position.”

  “Sounds boring,” Billy said. “And I can assure you I’m not into boring. Of course there is a Creator.” Billy winked at his partners in crime.

  “Then is it the Creator’s character that’s in question? Surely you don’t—”

  “Who is the Creator?” Billy asked.

  In that moment, Samuel understood Billy’s tack. The whole thing fell into his mind like a finished puzzle, and he knew rough waters lay ahead.

  “The Creator is he who created,” Christine said.

  Billy faced the students. “You see, this is where we see the first point of ambiguity in the rules. Because we all crea
te, don’t we? We are all creators. We create meals and drawings and stories and such every day. The question that I posed to myself when this thought first crossed my mind was, Well now, which creator does the third rule reference? Hmm? Is it the Creator with a capital C, as they are written? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. After all, who first wrote that word with a capital letter? And who decided that it should refer to this creator or that creator?”

  “Don’t patronize us,” Christine said. “We all know that David Abraham set the rules for the monastery. It’s his project. How simple can you get? Your words will bury you!”

  “David Abraham? I don’t dispute the fact that the director does indeed run this project. I take to issue, however, our narrow understanding of the meaning of creator.We are all creators. We should live and love to discover ourselves as creators.”

  “Nonsense. That’s not the meaning the director intended, and every last student knows it. You’re arguing empty semantics. The Creator,with a capital C, as written, is God.”

  “Believe me, more than one of your precious students has been persuaded by virtue of these very semantics. But if you wish for a stronger argument, then consider this. When God, the Creator with a big C, created us, he created us as creators. And he purposefully gave us the power and resolve to choose what we would create, correct?”

  No argument came from Christine.

  “Well then, he has given us permission to live and love as creative beings, guided by our own creative power. How can you have a rule that prohibits you from doing something the Creator, with a big C, has specifically given you permission to do? Can our director overrule God with his rules?”

  Billy faced the students. “Are you confused? Of course you’re confused. And why? Because the rule is indeed ambiguous!”

  Whispers scurried around the room. Samuel followed the argument. Apart from several well-hidden flaws, the argument seemed convincing. But it didn’t matter. The concepts were heady enough to cast confusion in even the best minds.

  He looked at his father and saw that he sat still, eyes closed. What if the vote swung against them? What if Christine’s debate backfired and forced the prevailing doctrine into reclusion?

  It would be a disaster! It would be the death of the monastery! Samuel straightened.We’ve got to stop this, Father!

  “How does love fit into this?” Christine asked sharply.

  The room grew quiet once again.

  Christine continued. “The inclusion of love in the third rule trumps any ambiguity that may exist as a result of your semantic twists and turns. The meaning of love is crystal clear. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Is it?” Billy grinned as widely as before. “And what is that meaning, Christine?”

  “Love is the purest expression of selflessness. It is the desire to please at the expense of one’s own sense of need. It’s looking for another to betray their desire so you can fulfill it. And there’s your problem, Billy. You’ve told us today that the identity of the Creator is in question. Ambiguous, you said. We are all creators, you said. And indeed we are, in a sense. But we can’t be the Creator as expressed in the rules because we can’t love like the Creator. All love comes from the Creator, the third rule reads. Surely you don’t hold that all love comes from any of us.”

  “I don’t know, Christine. I don’t think it’s so clear. It’s in your definition of love that I and the students find confusion.”

  “The students haven’t expressed an opinion yet. Please refrain from begging the question.”

  Billy ignored the reprimand. “You say love is the purest expression of selflessness. And you assume that the one who made the universe has somehow expressed this form of love and therefore must be the one referred to in the rule, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how is God’s act of creation so selfless? You see, I don’t think the Creator is so selfless. I think he created the world for his pleasure. In fact, I don’t believe the kind of love you speak of—this completely selfless nonsense—even exists.”

  A rumbling spread through the auditorium.

  “That’s blasphemy,” Christine said.

  “You show me a single act on the part of the Creator that doesn’t benefit himself, Christine, and I daresay I will recant. I will withdraw every argument. It would indeed win your case. It would trump my entire premise.”

  “How is it possible for God to do anything that does not benefit pure goodness, which is, in fact, himself?” Christine shot back. “To say he must be selfless would be to demand that he not be God!”

  “So then you agree. God cannot be selfless. And neither, my friends, can we.” Billy stepped out from behind his podium. “You see, we are bound to be selfish. We are creators who will and must find love, which serves us as creators.”

  “Nonsense! You’re saying that Christ’s sacrifice was selfish?”

  “I’m saying that, as Paul’s epistle tells us, Christ endured the cross for the joy set before him. Sounds like he was at least thinking about what it would gain him, doesn’t it?”

  He eyed the children, avoiding Samuel. “At the very least it’s a reasonable argument that leaves us with some ambiguity. Ambiguity,my friends. It’s my only case. It’s my whole case. Because in the face of ambiguity comes not only the permission to investigate, but the responsibility to investigate. To make forays into the unknown with the intent to discover what might lie there, hidden in the dark corners. I suggest to you today that anything less would be inexcusable for children of the great Creator.”

  Samuel closed his eyes. His face tingled. Christine was losing this debate. And not by such a small margin.

  Christine spoke again, but not as confidently. “Investigate, you say? Then you’d best do it slowly and carefully, lest you inadvertently plunge into a hole from which there is no escape.”

  “Yes, carefully,” Billy agreed. “But one cannot dissect a frog without cutting its flesh.”

  “I would say that there is a difference between God’s rights and the rights of those he created,” Christine said.

  “And I would say he created us in his image, with the desire and right to investigate ambiguities, something that can be done only by getting your hands into both sides of an argument. Even Jesus Christ went into the desert to be tempted. This was how he discovered the true meaning of love.” Billy sighed. “Which brings me to my second point. The second rule, that there is no discovery greater than love, is suspect too. The discovery of love may not be the most exciting thing after all. Dissecting the frog is pretty cool too, trust me on that. Since I’m a creator myself, I’ve altered the rules to allow for a little discovery of fun now and then, or maybe all the time.”

  The room fell silent. Christine paled. Billy leaned against his podium, grinning. Samuel looked at Darcy and saw that the girl had fallen asleep. Paul was smiling stupidly, scratching his rash. Samuel turned back to the stage. His father was looking directly at him.

  “You’re misinterpreting!” Christine snapped.

  “Then you’ve made my case for me,”Billy returned. “If something can be misinterpreted, then it is subject to interpretation. It is by nature ambiguous. And we, creatures created to create, must interpret. I am only doing what I was created to do.”

  The hour wasn’t up, but the argument seemed to have stalled. Christine glanced around the room and turned to Billy. “In the end you will see, Billy,” she said softly, as if the words were intended for Billy only. But the entire room heard them. “Your confusion will be your own undoing. This interpretation will bring a pain you can’t imagine.”

  “That is for me to discover,” he said, scratching the sores on his arm. “So far I don’t regret one moment.”

  Christine looked briefly at David and then turned from the podium.

  Leaving? She wasn’t finished! There must be a way to put Billy back on his heels. Was further argument that pointless?

  Taking the cue, Billy turned, walked to the curtains, and disappeared behind th
em.

  That was it then. Samuel watched as first his father and then the line of overseers rose and walked from the room. The Hall of Truth now awaited the students’ verdict.

  For a moment no one moved. And then Samuel and Darcy stood simultaneously and made their way to the platform. Someone must have woken the sleeper. With a glance at each other they climbed the stage and walked to the opposing podiums.

  So it all came to this. A single vote. No argument. No lengthy discussion. The argument had been cast. Only a single statement for each side of the debate remained. Samuel stepped to the side and allowed Darcy to speak first.

  The girl raised a hand to her neck and scratched the rash. Darcy seemed oblivious to the fact, and she brought her hand away red with blood. She ran her fingers through matted hair, leaving thin trails of red in her bangs, then stuffed her hands into her pockets.

  Darcy’s speech was strained. “Hey,” she began. “We all know what Billy said is true. Let’s face it, we may not like it, but there’s plenty of confusion out there. If you want to escape confusion, you should reapply as a horse or something, ’cause all humans have enough brains to be confused. Heck, I’m confused. It’s why I decided to investigate. Like Billy said.”

  She broke into a wide grin. “And trust me, it’s very cool. I listened to the holy robed ones for twelve years without questioning their rules. Well, now I’ve earned the right to spend a few days checking out the competition, just to round out my education, if you know what I mean.”

  She glanced over at Samuel. “Holy-boy here may not want you to vote for Billy, and that’s okay, because he’s confused too. He just won’t admit it. But you owe it to yourselves, to all that is right, to vote for Billy if you’re the least bit confused or even suspect there may be some ambiguity in the rules.”

  She stepped aside.

  The students stared at Samuel with blank expressions. He caught an encouraging nod from Tyler and began his rebuttal.

  “Hello,my friends. Two simple questions should be considered in all this mess. One, Billy speaks of ambiguity. Did any ambiguity rest with the rules before you heard him speak this morning? Not for me. In fact, I can’t think of anything I am so certain of as the third rule. The rules are the basis for everything at the monastery. Without them, we’re just orphans from the street. Your vote may return us there—to the streets.”