Monday, February 12, 2024

Mormon Misconceptions: Heaven

 A joke a non-denominational Christian preacher told me:

One day a group of people arrived at the gates of heaven. They were greeted by St. Peter, who welcomed them to their new eternal home, and invited them to take a tour. Naturally they all agreed, so St. Peter led them along a path to a wide, lazy river, where a boat was waiting for them. 

Everyone boarded the boat and found a seat.  two angels on the docks cast of the lines, and the boat pulled away, moved by some silent propulsion system.

As they rounded the first bend in the river, an enormous cathedral came into view. It was a beautiful structure of stone, with ornate, stained-glass windows everywhere. The sound of a regal choir poured from an open doorway, into which people were reverently entering the building. A few turned, and seeing the boat, waved in greeting.

"Those are the Catholics," St. Peter returned the wave of greeting as the boat continued upstream.

The next bend opened on a giant, outdoor amphitheater. A large crowd was gathered, listening to a band perform, there were drums and guitars, and the crown swayed to the music, their arm raised high.

"And these are the Pentecostals," St.  Peter smiled, his foot tapping to the beat. Someone in the crowd noticed the boat. He let out an enthusiastic yell, and the entire crowed turned, shouting in greeting. The people on the boat waved to the crowd, who returned to their worship.

"They are a lively bunch," St. Peter observed with a grin.

Around another bend, the newcomers observed a large meadow, dotted with picnic pavilions. Where people sat in small groups, conversing as they sampled the smorgasbord and read scripture.

"These are the Baptists," St. waved cordially at a nearby by group, who shouted a greeting to the newcomers.

"Wow!" one of the passengers exclaimed, "I had no idea heaven was so huge!"

"In my father's house are many mansions," St. Peter quoted the scripture with a smile.

Just then, one of the passengers pointed at the opposite bank, a look of alarm on her face. The others followed her gaze to a tall, fortified barricade, with caution signs posted at frequent intervals, warning all to 'keep out.'

'Oh, yes,' St. Peter seemed startled, "I almost forgot. Everyone please be quiet until we are past this area. no noise."

The boat floated on in dreadful silence, the passengers not daring to breath.

As the barricade finally faded in the distance, one passenger turned to St. Peter.

"What in heaven is so dangerous it needs to be walled in like that?"

"Oh, no," St. Peter shook his head, chuckling. "It's nothing dangerous. Those are the Mormons. They think they're the only ones here."




As a twenty-year-old hearing this, I politely laughed at his joke, but I found it not even slightly amusing. A few decades of human interaction later, and I have come to appreciate the humor in his joke. Though I will say it is applicable to any number of people from any number of faiths.


In reality however, I think most people, me included, tend to misrepresent the scope of heaven from the perspective of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I say that having recently re-read section 76 of the Doctrine and Covenants.


(I feel I should probably post a disclaimer here - I am not authorized to speak for, or on behalf of the church, the following is my personal opinion.)


Doctrine and Covenants (or D&C - a collection of latter-day revelations, held as scripture in the Latter-Day Saint faith) Section 76 includes several verses which describe, at least in part, the concept of the "many mansions..." spoken of by Jesus Christ in the New Testament (John 14:2). It accounts a vision seen by Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon, in which they were shown certain aspects of the resurrection of the dead.


During that vision, they saw three "worlds" or "glories" (Both terms are used in this section. People often refer to them as "kingdoms" as well, though that word is not used as such in this section.)


And this becomes a point of contention for many Christians (and others), who see this as some sort of grading system. That is another topic, which I might address in a separate post, if anybody is particularly interested.


For now, I just want to look at a few of the verses describing these three glories, and dig into my most recent observations:


First, the Celestial:

D&C 76:69 "These are they who are just men made perfect through Jesus the mediator of the new covenant, who wrought out this perfect atonement through the shedding of his own blood."

Seems pretty straight forward. The contention many have with this is the implication that we earn our way into heaven by our works. And many in and out of the Church interpret it this way. Though I think this verse quite clearly calls out the atonement as the vehicle which makes entry possible. 


But this is is the least interesting one, so, moving on...



The Terrestrial:

D&C 76:74 "Who received not the testimony of Jesus in the flesh, but afterwards received it."

Now this one troubled me on first read. It seems to say, that Mother Theresa, and Mahatma Ghandi can do no better than this, but several politicians and businessmen (who shall not be named), who have been caught publicly lying, but have temple recommends can fare better in the afterlife.

That doesn't make sense. Not if God is truly just and merciful.

There is a footnote in this verse which cross references D&C 138:2 which includes this elaboration.

"...those who had died in their sins, without a knowledge of the truth, or in transgression, having rejected the prophets."

I read this as the same statement, made twice. They died in their sins (or, transgression), Without a *Knowledge* (not faith) of the truth (or, they rejected the prophets).

So, this isn't talking about people like Ghandi, who didn't have sufficient opportunity to learn about and accept the gospel of Jesus Christ. This is talking about people who learned it, understood it, and rejected it, but then came around in the afterlife.


Now here's the real kicker.


The Telestial:

82 "These are they who received not the gospel of Christ, neither the testimony of Jesus."

84 "...are thrust down to hell."

85 "...shall not be redeemed from the devil until the last resurrection."

103 "These are they who are liars, and sorcerers, and whoremongers, and whosoever loves and makes a lie."

89 "And thus we saw, in the heavenly vision, the glory of the telestial, which surpasses all understanding."


This is where heaven gets bigger in Latter Day Saint teaching. Among the inhabitants of this Glory - A glory which "surpasses all understanding" - are those who reject the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Not just in this life (That's already been covered by the Terrestrial), but also in the afterlife. In any other Christian doctrine, that qualifies you for hell. End of story.

But the way I read these verses, those people - the worst of the worst - some of whom refuse to accept Jesus Christ as their Savior, not just now, but after they die, still get to go to heaven! An Infinite Atonement indeed.



Friday, January 19, 2024

The Authenticity Fallacy

(This post is part of series of posts, beginning here. It is recommended they be read collectively, and in order.)  


"Be Your Authentic Self"


This has become a popular phrase of late.

There is just one problem. You don't know yourself well enough to be your authentic self.

Consider the case of "Joe".


Joe is an individual whose corpus callosum was cut, severing the left and right hemispheres of his brain, in an attempt to control severe epileptic seizures.

Some interesting observations came from experiments performed with Joe. Having him focus on a dot in the center of a computer screen they would display words or images to either the right or left side of the screen. Anything which appeared on right side, he could verbally name. If it was on the left side, he could not. He could, however, with his left hand, draw the object.

Taking it a step further, they would show different objects in each side at the same time. He would draw object on the left side. But report seeing the object on the right.

In some instances, when asked about the disparity between what he said he saw, and what he drew, he provided a believable (albeit false) explanation. For instance, he reported seeing a hammer, but drew a bell, he would report having passed a church while driving to the facility and must have seen the bell in the steeple. Note he wasn't lying, he was creating a false memory to justify the disparity, to make sense of it.

Which side of Joe's brain is his authentic self?

It is noted that women, every month, go through a series of four hormonal phases (menstrual, follicular, ovulatory, luteal), during which significant changes in various hormone levels occur. These changes vary in effect from one person to the next, but in some instances, they very drastically alter mood, to a nearly Jekyll and Hyde level in some cases. Recent studies suggest there is also an impact on decision making (specifically, higher estrogen levels reduce impulsivity). At what point on the Menstrual cycle, then is a woman her "authentic self"?

(Men experience something similar, though not nearly so drastic, and on a 24 hour cycle, but this too may alter mood and decision making to some extent, so again, what time of the day is the man being his "authentic self?")


In the previous post, "The Invictus Illusion", I noted a report on instances of drastic personality change occurring in victims of brain trauma. Further, consider the instances of dissociative identity disorder.

Putting that together, I wish to propose a theory.


Each and every one of us consists of multiple "personalities".

Perhaps our brain is in fact a distributed system, with each region having its own personality. For most people, we are unaware of this due to one or more mechanisms which coordinate those separate personalities. If this is the case, then dissociative identity disorder is the failure of this mechanism, causing a person's separate personalities to manifest independently.

What then is our authentic self? The combination of all the personas? The command-and-control system, assuming one exists? Perhaps finding your authentic self is lifelong struggle in which one personality ultimately subdues the others?


This is of course a theory, but one which fits with what we know, and could possibly explain much of what we don't. It of course becomes a tricky talking point for people of faith - if you consist of multiple personalities, what then, is "the spirit", and what control does it actually exert on body and mind?

I don't know how close to truth my theoretical model is, but at any rate, who you are, and who you think you are, are likely much farther apart than you realize.


Tuesday, January 9, 2024

(Dis)Proving Evolution

 I created a series of posts on the topic of (Dis)Proving God quite some time ago. I believe I need give a similar exploration of evolution now.

I believe it is necessary to consider the concept of evolution in two separate categories:

1. Evolution as a mechanism utilizing natural (or artificial) selection to alter the characteristics of a living organism.

2. Evolution as the origin of life.


In the case of the former, this has been quite clearly observed and documented. The peppered moth is a key example of this. The moth was largely white in color with black spotting, which worked well as camouflage against lichen covered tree trunks. There were of course mutant variations of the moth which had less white and more black. They were easy prey for birds, however, thus rarely survived to procreate. 


As we humans constructed cities, and burned wood and coal to keep ourselves warm, we introduced pollution which blackened the nearby trees. Suddenly it was the black moths, not the white ones which had the advantage. Their numbers rose, while the population of white moths declined. 


We humans have been using this evolutionary process to our advantage for millennia now. We have carefully selected and breed dogs for specific characteristics. We manipulated evolution to create dog breeds specifically suited to heard and guard grazing animals. We created breeds to pull sleds or wagons, breeds to retrieve small game. Breeds to hunt and kill small rodents in and around our homes. Breeds to protect our families from potential threats.


We have manipulated various vegetation, selecting for sweeter, hardier, more visually appealing characteristics. Many of today's vegetables would be unrecognizable to those who first used them.


Evolution is a clearly observed mechanism. Only an utter fool would argue against it at this point.


What is not entirely clear is whether this scales beyond altering characteristics within a species. Certainly, it is reasonable to conclude that a new type of animal can be created through this process. I use the Mule (a cross between a horse and a donkey) and the Liger (a cross between a Lion and a Tiger) as observed examples of this. And though ligers are usually sterile, there have been instances where they have produced offspring.


It is notable a Liger is still a cat. We haven't observed the creation - through natural or artificial selection - of a 'cog' for instance (a hypothetical cross between a cat and a dog, though some might point to the fox...). 


There are two possible arguments to rebut this however:


1. Such drastic evolution takes more time than human history has yet had to observe. (i.e. men evolved from monkeys over millions of years)

2. Such drastic evolution does not directly occur; rather two different mutations in two different surviving species of a primitive organism lead to the two entirely different creatures. (i.e. men and monkeys both evolved from the same origin ancestor [a frog? an amoeba?]  over billions or trillions of years)


Each of these is a potentially viable possibility, based on what we have observed within natural selection. Or perhaps better stated, it is not an unreasonable theory to propose, based on what we have observed. Certainly not one which can be summarily discarded.


There is still that question of the first spark, the initial origin of life.


Now this one is arguably problematic for both evolution and intelligent design. If you are going to posit the question, "where did the first living thing come from?" it is equally fair to ask the question "Where did God come from?" And if you are willing to accept that God just always existed, why then is it not equally acceptable to claim the first living organism always existed?


(Perhaps my mind is simply too fettered by its finite limitations, but to me, both seem improbable).


But setting that aside for the moment, let's just consider this universe as something which came into existence. "Bang", and there it was. Either it did so because some external, intelligent entity acted upon it (perhaps even utilizing artificial selection to evolve it), or it did so through random chance.


There is a thought experiment which posits the argument, if you have an infinite number of monkeys banging away on an infinite number of typewriters, one of them will eventually produce the complete works of Shakespeare. That is fundamentally what is at the heart of the random chance argument.


That is a probability problem. What is the likelihood of such an occurrence happening?


(Dis)Proving God

 This is an index for a series of posts I created titled "(Dis)Proving God".



1.  Dis/proving God: Math, Science and a Checkerboard

2. Dis/proving God: Logic, Anecdotes and Water

3. Dis/Proving god:The Facts

4. Dis/Proving God:Science and Faith

5. Dis/Proving God: Patterns

6. Proving God: Math and Personal Science



Wednesday, November 22, 2023

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch10

      (Landing page with info and list of sample chapters)


Chapter 10


The day of the second weapons shipment arrived, and Oscar and Nicolas drove their scooters to the range, with Javier riding behind Nicolas. Javier and Nicolas had settled their differences just two days before. Nicolas finally relented, consenting to allow the girls to stay over, but only one night a week, and not weekends, or busy times.

They arrived early—Nicolas was obsessive about arriving early—and waited impatiently for the others to arrive.

Next to arrive was the Templarios’ shipment of drugs, with one of Luis’ men driving, and two more sitting in the back, rifles at the ready. Benjamin was with them again, and waved to Nicolas as he exited the passenger side of the vehicle.

“Where’s Luis?” Nicolas asked.

Benjamin shrugged. “We came straight from the warehouse. I thought Luis was meeting us here.”

“Oh, uh,” the driver’s eyes flickered nervously, “he said he was going to be late, that we should proceed without him. Some other business to take care of this morning.”

Benjamin shot a quizzical look at the driver, then began loosening straps on the load of boxes.

It was only a minute or two before the other truck arrived. In addition to the two foreigners from last time, there were also two unfamiliar, but native-looking individuals. The two groups sized each other up, then exchanged handshakes as a gesture of trust. The newcomers began unloading their crates of firearms, and as before, Nicolas selected a couple rifles from crates to test-fire, while Javier selected some pistols at random. Oscar offered to test a crate of military-grade shotguns.

Nicolas had an uneasy feeling. Why was Luis late? Why was the driver acting so strangely? The two natives who were traveling with the gun dealers, where were they from? Why were they here? Nicolas covertly watched them; they seemed unable to take their eyes off Benjamin. Something didn’t feel right.

“Hey, Benjamin.” Nicolas sauntered toward the big man after emptying the magazine of the second rifle he had taken for testing. “How’s it going?”

Benjamin broke from his work to shake hands with Nicolas.

“Doing good, and you?”

“I’m good,” Nicolas responded, then leaning in, he spoke more quietly: “I think something’s wrong.”

Benjamin cocked his head to one side, an unspoken question in his eye.

“I don’t know, just … watch your back,” Nicolas whispered, then speaking more loudly, “We gonna test the rockets today?”

Benjamin chuckled, nodding. “I think we can arrange to test one.”

“We got this big hunk of metal for a target,” one of the native men with the visitors announced, thumping a hand on a bulky object in the truck. He directed his attention to Benjamin. “You wanna help us pack it down range?”

Benjamin’s eyes narrowed. He flashed the briefest of glances toward Nicolas.

“Sure.” Benjamin gave a half-smile as he walked over to the two natives.

The three of them dragged the object––some sort of damaged wood and metal crate—out of the truck. One of the native men took the front, while Benjamin and the other one each took a back corner. They hefted the object and began the slow, ponderous trek into the open field, away from the men, cargo, and vehicles.

“How far we goin’?” Benjamin asked.

“About two-fifty meters,” the closer of the men replied.

Nicolas selected another magazine from a crate. Keeping the rifle he had just finished testing, he ejected the empty magazine and loaded the new one. He moved into position on the range, the rifle pointed at the ground.

He stood stock-still staring intently at the three men struggling with the heavy target.

“What are you doing, man?” Oscar stood close to Nicolas and whispered the question.

“Quiet,” Nicolas hissed in response.

The men were a hundred meters out now. Nicolas checked the safety, then chambered a round. His hands trembled slightly.

A hundred and fifty meters away, one of the men swore. “I cut my finger on the edge of this box!” It was difficult to make out at this distance, but Nicolas was laser-focused on the man. “I gotta let go, you good?”

“Go ahead, I got it,” came Benjamin’s grunted reply.

The man next to Benjamin let go of the box, and turned, inspecting his hands.

Nicolas raised the rifle and sighted through the scope.

“Dude!” Oscar hissed.

“Shut up!” Nicolas hissed back.

The man who had supposedly hurt his hand slipped a machete from a sheath on his back, and with a look of murderous intent, turned back toward Benjamin. He slunk stealthily behind Benjamin, the machete raised overhead, poised to strike.

Nicolas didn’t think, he reacted. He flicked the safety on the rifle, sighted in on the machete blade and squeezed the trigger. He heard the metal-on-metal clang just as the machete jumped from the unsuspecting man’s grip.

For his size, Benjamin was startlingly fast. He dropped the crate, spun as he drew a pistol from a shoulder holster, and fired two rounds into his would-be attacker. Nicolas saw the spray of blood and gore as the large caliber bullets exited the man’s back.

The first man staggered when the back of the case dropped to the ground. He reached for his own sidearm as he sought to regain his footing.

Benjamin was too fast for him, turning back and firing three rounds before the man’s weapon cleared the holster. Benjamin took cover behind the crate, pointing his pistol in Nicolas’s direction.

Nicolas lowered the rifle, raising one empty hand overhead. Then he remembered the other men. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw them standing wide-eyed, hands frozen halfway to their own sidearms.

“Hey,” one of the arms dealers spoke softly. “We got nothin’ to do with those two. We were told to bring them to help unload. We’re just here to do business.” He slowly raised both hands, palms out, to confirm his peaceful intentions. The other man duplicated his gesture.

Everyone turned to watch as Benjamin approached, gun at the ready.

“Anybody know what that was all about?” Benjamin glanced from Luis’s men to the two visitors.

“No idea, sir.” The arms dealer spoke reassuringly. “They were a last-minute hire to help us load and unload.”

Benjamin stood, coiled like a spring, ready to strike at the first hint of movement from anyone. The other men wisely remained motionless.

The sound of an approaching jeep drew everyone’s attention to the road, as Luis and his driver pulled into the clearing.

“What’s happening here?” Luis looked surprised as he stepped from the vehicle.

Eyes flashed from one to the other as each man waited for someone else to speak up.

“I think our friends here made a hiring mistake,” Benjamin finally offered. “They accidentally took on a couple of thieves. That or maybe freedom fighters. You anchored south of here, right?” Benjamin directed the question to the arms dealers.

“Uh, yeah,” one of the men nodded.

“El Pobre Unido, maybe.” Benjamin grunted. “Trying to steal weapons for their rebellion. They tried to ambush me. Didn’t work out for them, though.”

There were several relieved grunts of affirmation from both sides.

“Yeah, that was probably it.” One of Luis’s men eagerly supported Benjamin’s theory.

“Ah, well, I am … so glad you’re okay,” Luis offered, eyeing Benjamin closely. “Tell me, how did you manage to escape their trap?”

“Luckily, Nicolas saw right through them.” Benjamin fixed his eyes on Nicolas. “He knew they were up to something, he warned me.”

“Really?” Luis shifted his penetrating gaze to Nicolas.

“Yeah…” Nicolas began haltingly. It was more than just those two. Nicolas was sure of it. The other men knew something. He glanced at Benjamin again. Something in his expression seemed to warn Nicolas to keep those suspicions to himself.

“Yeah, I don’t know exactly. Just … something about the way those two talked. It just felt … off. So, I told Benjamin.”

“And so, I was ready for them,” Benjamin finished. “You got a good man there, Luis. We should probably wrap up here and make those bodies disappear.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Luis quickly offered. “You finish the transaction, yes?”

Nicolas ejected the magazine and cleared the chamber of the rifle, returning it to the case.

Benjamin walked over to assist in closing the case and loading into the Templarios’ pickup.

“I owe you my life, man,” Benjamin murmured to Nicolas.

“Oh, I uh …” Nicolas stuttered.

“Seriously, Nicolas.” Benjamin fixed him with a hard stare. “You ever need anything, you call me. I’ll take care of it.”

With testing done, Nicolas and his friends were no longer needed. They got on their scooters and drove back to the apartment.

“What was that all about?” Javier asked as they walked back into the condo.

“I don’t know,” Nicolas answered honestly.

“But it was more than just a couple rogue bandits, wasn’t it?” Oscar joined in the interrogation. “I mean, you were … on edge, man.”

“I dunno.” Nicolas shook his head. “Benjamin said bandits, he’d know better than me.”

Later that evening, a knock at the door startled the three boys.

“Are you gonna get that?”

Nicolas turned to stare at Javier, and realized both he and Oscar were staring at him.

“Open up, it’s me, Benjamin,” the familiar voice spoke through the door.

Relieved, Nicolas jumped up and opened the door.

“Hey, man, come in. Everything okay?”

“I was just gonna ask you. You guys okay?”

“Yeah.” Nicolas relaxed when Benjamin didn’t seem tense. “What was that?”

Benjamin looked over his shoulder, then scanned the room. Nicolas closed and locked the door.

“You trust your friends? To keep a secret?” Benjamin directed the question to Nicolas.

“Them?” Nicolas’s eyes gestured to Oscar and Javier. “Yeah, I trust ’em.”

Benjamin looked around again, uncertainly. His shoulders sagged slightly.

“It was my fault, I guess.”

“How so?” Nicolas frowned.

“When I was young, the Templarios’ leader was a different man. He lived in Acapulco, but he fancied himself a gentleman farmer. He spent much of his free time in southern Guerrero. So, my father spent time there as well. I grew up near the Oaxaca border.”

“You want something to drink?” Oscar offered when Benjamin paused.

Cerveza?”

Oscar went to the kitchen to pull a bottle from the refrigerator.

“I met a girl down there, when I was … maybe sixteen. She was fourteen—very pretty.

“What I didn’t know then, she was the daughter of a prominent figure in the Oaxaca Cartel. The Oaxaca Cartel worked for the Tijuana Cartel, with whom the Templarios were bitter rivals.”

“Oh, wow.” Javier stared with wide eyes.

“Yeah, it was kinda like the Montagues and Capulets.”

The three boys stared blankly.

Romeo and Juliet?” Benjamin frowned. “Don’t you read that in school?” Benjamin shook his head and mumbled something under his breath. Nicolas caught the word ‘uncultured’ but couldn’t make out the rest.

“Anyway, both our fathers put an end to that as soon as they figured it out. But …” Benjamin winced. “Our relationship had already … bloomed … by then.”

“I was willing to marry her,” Benjamin hastily added, his voice somewhat defensive. Then he sighed. “But my father would have none of that, and sent me off to train under Gonzalo, who was being groomed to take over the business from his father. He was already running much of the northwestern operations.”

“So, what happened to the girl?” Javier prodded.

No se, just rumors. I heard the baby was stillborn, and she blamed her father, who in turn blamed me for ruining his relationship with his little princesa. Anyway, those two would-be assassins were Oaxaca cartel, and I know Gonzalo was working to broker a deal of some sort with them. A merger or something. My guess is that giving his men a shot at me was part of the deal.”

“What? No way!” Oscar clenched his fist, his face clearly telegraphing his outrage at the idea.

Benjamin shrugged. “It’s business. Employees are expendable.”

“What are you gonna do?” Nicolas asked, his eyes downcast, unwilling to meet Benjamin’s.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Javier’s tone was incredulous.

“They tried and failed. Gonzalo doesn’t know I know. So, he gave them their chance and––for the time being at least––it’s business as usual. He can honestly say he didn’t interfere. Their blunder shouldn’t mess up his plans, unless her father is crazy bitter. At any rate, he likely won’t be able to negotiate another shot at me for a while. I’m a good soldier, Gonzalo won’t sell me off cheaply. Especially not a second time.”

“You’d still work for him?” Oscar shook his head.

“It’s a job. Job’s a job.”

“Most jobs you just get fired, not killed by your boss.”

“Pros and cons, I suppose.” Benjamin held his hand up as if weighing the two in the balance.

“How is there a pro to killed versus fired?” Javier stared in disbelief.

“Well,” Benjamin looked upward, considering, “you don’t have to see the look of disappointment on your family’s faces when you have to tell them you can’t feed them anymore.”

“That’s messed up.” Oscar mumbled it under his breath, Nicolas heard it though.

“Pay’s good,” Benjamin explained, “which is good for my mamá. Medical bills.”

“Your father?” Nicolas queried.

“Died in a firefight with some special anti-drug force several years ago.”

“Sorry, man.”

“It’s business,” Benjamin countered. “Look, I just wanted to stop by and make sure you guys were okay, I know you’re mostly in the softer side of the business.”

“Oh yeah,” he said as he raised a hand, “I’m also supposed to let you know Gonzalo wants to meet you three. You’ll get a call tomorrow, about a dinner invitation for Sunday afternoon. Probably at one of the country clubs. Keep your schedule open.”

Benjamin went to the door, opened it, and then paused halfway out.

“And I’m serious, Nicolas.” He poked his head back into the room. “You need anything at all, you call me. I’ll take care of you.”

Friday, November 17, 2023

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch9

     (Landing page with info and list of sample chapters)


Chapter 9


 “Rocket launchers?” Oscar stared at Javier in disbelief.

“I swear it’s the truth.” Javier raised his arm as if he was testifying under oath.

“For real?” Oscar’s gaze shifted from Javier to Nicolas.

“For real,” Nicolas confirmed.

“You missed out, man.” Javier smirked.

“Somebody has to manage the business while you’re out playing,” Oscar retorted.

“We got paid,” Javier shot back.

“Oh good, and when’s the next job?”

“In a month.”

“Wait.” Oscar furrowed his brow. “Really?”

“Yup,” Javier sneered.

“Aww, man!” Oscar smacked the arm of the couch in frustration.

“Maybe I’ll take you instead of Nicolas next time, if you can convince me you deserve it.”

“What?” Nicolas’s eyes went wide. “No way, man, I’m gonna be there when they test the rocket. Besides, I’m making connections, me and Benjamin are like that.” He held his hand up and twisted his fingers together.

“Who’s Benjamin?” Oscar scowled.

“He’s the main bodyguard for the main man.” Nicolas puffed out his chest. “Oh yeah, by the way, did you know Luis isn’t the big boss?”

“Well, yeah.” Oscar wrinkled his nose in thought. “I mean, the Templarios are all over Guerrero, right? But Luis just handles Ixtapa, so obviously.”

“Anyway,” Nicolas tried to cover his irritation that Oscar had worked it out for himself, “Benjamin is the bodyguard for Gonzalo––he’s the real leader of the Templarios.”

Nicolas paused, waiting for Oscar to express awe or admiration. To his annoyance, no such response came.

Nicolas continued, “he and I hung out—shot guns together.”

“Cool,” Oscar offered, nodding his head. To Nicolas, it looked more like he was being placatory, rather than truly impressed.

“Well, I’m going next time,” Nicolas grumbled, glaring at Javier. “Maybe Oscar can come with me, and you can stay and watch the shop.”

“No way,” Javier objected, “this is my gig, man. I set this up, don’t try and squeeze me out.”

“Oh, will you two stop bickering.” Oscar rolled his eyes. “You were only gone for like, half the day, and in the middle of the week. We can all go, and it won’t make a difference to business here.”

“Whatever. I gotta go.” Javier jumped up and headed toward the door, then looked over his shoulder, a smug grin on his face. “I’m hosting a party near the south beach tonight, gonna show up in a Porsche, I gotta go pick it up.”

“Don’t crash the rental, man.” Oscar didn’t even bother to look up.

Javier shot dagger eyes at Oscar, made a gesture, then closed the door forcefully as he exited the apartment.

Oscar and Nicolas sat in silence for a while, watching a show on the television.

“He’s hosting parties now?” Oscar shot an incredulous look at Nicolas. “How’s he gonna pay for that?”

“He is getting paid to host the parties,” Nicolas explained. “He told me a little bit about it while we were driving out to the range. He’s like … catering or something for these super-rich Americans. Like private birthday parties or bachelor parties or whatever. They’re here with friends to have a really crazy time, and Javier acts as their contact. He hooks them up with a place, food, drinks, drugs, girls …”

“You mean prostitutes?” Oscar queried.

“I don’t know, maybe. I bet there’s lots of girls that would go, just to go to a fancy party. Just whatever the guys want. Javier works with Luis, gets the right people and makes sure everything runs smoothly, and that the guys have a great time, then he gets a big tip at the end.”

Oscar snorted disapprovingly.

“What?” Nicolas defended Javier. “He’s got a good face for it, he’s easy-going and fun. He’s getting pretty good money throwing parties for people who are stupid-rich too. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Maybe.” Oscar’s eyes grew distant. He opened his mouth as if to say more, faltered, then closed his mouth again, with a shake of his head.

“What?”

“Nothing, man, forget it.” Oscar yawned, rising from the couch. “I’m sleepy. I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Yeah, me too.” Nicolas flicked the television off and went to his own room.

Nicolas was awakened at four in the morning by the sound of giggling. Shaking sleep from his head, he pulled on his pants and, opening the door to his room, he peered into the living area.

Nicolas rubbed his eyes and looked again. Javier was standing between two girls, an arm around each. Both of the women were extremely attractive, and both were wearing very expensive evening dresses. Javier himself was wearing a tuxedo. The three seemed … very affectionate.

“Oh, Nicolas,” Javier gasped, “sorry, were we too loud?”

Nicolas continued to stare, mouth agape.

“This is my partner, Nicolas.”

“Hi, Nicolas,” the two women sang in unison, then broke into another giggling fit.

“Nicolas, this is Carmen.” Javier inclined his head to the girl on his left, a slender blonde with pouty lips and sultry eyes. “And this, is Daniella.” Javier indicated the doe-eyed brunette on his right.

“Javier, can I speak with you privately for a minute?”

“Oh, sure.” Javier’s eyes flicked from one woman to the other. “Please excuse me for a minute, ladies. My partner and I have some business to discuss.”

The women giggled again as Javier extricated himself and sauntered over to Nicolas.

“What’s up?” Javier stared at Nicolas with a jaunty expression.

“Who are they?”

Javier furrowed his brow. “Carmen and Daniella.”

Nicolas closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What are they doing here?”

“I’m giving them a tour of my place.” Javier turned to wave at the women, who were now standing arm in arm whispering and giggling. They returned his wave.

“Why?” Nicolas fixed Javier with an exasperated stare. “Who are they to you? Where do you know them from?”

“Oh, I met them at the party tonight, and it was love at first sight. Isn’t it great?”

Nicolas cast a dubious glance at the two girls.

“Which one?”

“Both,” Javier replied brightly.

Nicolas scowled, shaking his head slowly.

“No.”

“No what?”

“They’re not staying here.”

“What? Oh c’mon.”

“You know the rules.” Nicolas crossed his arms.

“You said no parties. These are my girlfriends.”

“Really?” Nicolas stared incredulously.

“Really. I love them.” Javier glanced over his shoulder again, smiling at the women. “And they love me.”

“Fine,” Nicolas snarled, “but not here. You can love them someplace else.”

“Oh really,” Javier hissed. “If Oscar brings a girl home, are you going to kick her out? What happens when you meet a girl? Will the same rule apply then?”

“Yes,” Nicolas growled, “it will.”

The two stared defiantly at each other for several seconds.

“Fine.” Javier finally broke away. “Ladies, my partner has just reminded me of some rather delicate business occurring here later, so he needs us to postpone the tour to another day. It’s short notice, but perhaps we can find an executive suite at one of the resorts.”

The girls exchanged excited glances, giggling again as Javier placed himself between them and steered them to the door.

Monday, November 13, 2023

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch8

     (Landing page with info and list of sample chapters)


Chapter 8


Summer settled into a routine for the boys. The weekdays were relatively laid back, with time on their hands to relax. They would usually get one or two shipments during the week, in the evenings, and there would be an occasional sporadic request from one of the distributors.

The weekends were a mad rush. On Friday and Saturday nights, almost every distributor would come in for a refill, and they were frequently invited to more than one party.

Oscar always offered to stay and ‘mind the shop’, so Javier and Nicolas would go to the parties. It was a bit strange for Nicolas. He and Oscar had always hung out the most as kids. Javier and Gaspar had been around, but they also had other friendship groups they spent time with, and Nicolas lived far enough away, they would only see each other on occasional weekends. Nicolas and Oscar’s parents were friends, and one or the other would travel to visit at least once a month. Sometimes the boys were allowed a week-long sleepover. They were frequently together back then; fishing, or riding bikes, or just wandering the neighborhoods. Now, it seemed Oscar would always disappear when they’d make plans to go to the beach, or when there was a party to attend.

Nicolas liked Javier well enough, it wasn’t that it bothered him to hang out with Javier, it was just weird that Oscar was never around.

A month into the summer, this changed slightly. Luis invited the boys to go shooting one morning during the week. Oscar was available for that, and it became a part of the regular weekly routine. Every Tuesday, they would drive out of town to a remote area and shoot at targets, with a variety of guns provided by Luis: handguns, shotguns, rifles … Luis even had a fully automatic AK-47. Nicolas favored rifles. He took to it naturally, and within a few weeks, he was putting a two-and-a-half-inch grouping on a target at three hundred meters.

Oscar’s grouping was closer to five inches at that distance, and Javier gave up by two hundred meters. He preferred the automatic anyway, though he did discover a talent for speed-shooting with the handguns.

Nicolas was easily the best shot with rifles at a distance; he even managed to earn a little extra money taking bets on distance shots with military, police or mercenaries, who would occasionally show up to shoot with Luis and his friends. He only ever lost once, to a guy who he later learned was a professional sniper. He picked up a few tips from him, so in the end it was more payment for a lesson than a loss.

Fall and winter saw a slight turndown in business, as the American students returned to their studies. It didn’t have a significant impact on Nicolas and his friends though. Rent was free, regardless. There was a downturn for the shops, thus a reduction in their income from collections, but not so bad as to worry them. Javier complained some. He had discovered he was able to attract the affections of a few of the young girls by buying them little trinkets and taking them to the fancier clubs. Unfortunately, as his money waned, so did their attention.

Oscar shook his head in disgust as Javier complained.

“You need help, man.”

“Oh, yeah, like I’d take relationship advice from you,” Javier quipped. “When was the last time you had a date? Lunch with your mommy doesn’t count.”

Oscar rolled his eyes and stalked out of the room, mumbling.

“Dude,” Nicolas chastised Javier, “that was cold. Just ’cause he’s not a player, like you.”

“I’m not a player. I just know, if you wanna find your princess, you gotta kiss a lot of frogs.”

“Frogs?” Nicolas raised a brow. “Really?”

“What?” Javier spread his arms defensively.

Nicolas sighed. “Oscar’s right, man. You do need help.”

As winter gave way to spring, and tourists began blossoming on the beaches once more, Javier’s complaining subsided.

“Maybe you should pace yourself,” Nicolas suggested one evening. “Save some of your money now, so you have enough for the winter, you know?”

“Naw.” Javier shook his head. “What I need to do is develop more income opportunities. I’ve been talking to Luis. He thinks he might have something for me, some other businesses the organization is looking to get into. He says I have a good face for it. Handsome, honest … speaking of which, I need your help this Thursday.”

“For what?” Nicolas asked pensively.

“There’s some guys coming in, looking to sell some guns. Luis just needs a couple of us to check the guns.”

“Luis is buying guns? What for? Doesn’t that mostly happen near the border?”

“Yeah.” Javier agreed. “Usually does. There’s been some freedom-fighter group setting up in Templario territory recently, south of here, so not really bothering us yet, but Luis is concerned about it. He wants to be prepared, make sure they stay in check, you know?”

“I don’t know.” Nicolas frowned. “I didn’t sign up to be a soldier. Why not let the police handle it?”

“We’re not gonna be involved in any action.” Javier rolled his eyes. “We’re just gonna test a few guns out for Luis, make sure they are good quality before he buys them. It’ll be just like any other target-shooting trip for us. No biggie.”

“You sure?” Nicolas eyed him skeptically.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

As Javier predicted, it was very much like any other target-shooting trip. A pickup truck arrived with crates in the back. In the crates were assorted firearms. The men delivering them claimed they were ‘misplaced’ inventory from the US military.

Nicolas was directed to select a few rifles at random and test them, to make sure they fired properly. The men continued to unload the crates while Nicolas and Javier obliterated various targets.

Several minutes later, one of Luis’ trucks arrived, with crates of its own. The men inspected the crates, then began transferring them to their now empty pickup.

So, it’s a trade, Nicolas thought. Drugs for guns.

A man Nicolas didn’t recognize joined them on the firing line. Nicolas eyed him curiously as he inspected, loaded and fired a very military-looking gun. Too short for a rifle, too big for a pistol. Nicolas had never been big into guns but this looked like something from the movies; all black, sleek and sexy.

The man had larger than normal hands, to complement his larger than normal body, yet he handled the gun with easy dexterity. He brought the collapsing stock to his shoulder and sighted down the short barrel. An imperceptible squeeze of the trigger, and the gun fired. He paused briefly, then fired a dozen more rounds in quick succession.

“You ever fired an MPX before?” The voice was soft and sonorous. The big man gave only the briefest of nods in Nicolas’s direction.”

“No, sir.” Nicolas shook his head.

“You wanna try?” The man held the gun out toward Nicolas.

“Okay.” Nicolas moved haltingly. The man was a full head taller than Nicolas, but that wasn’t what made him so intimidating. His biceps were larger in diameter than Nicolas’s legs.

“Don’t worry, the gun won’t bite.” One corner of the man’s mouth turned up slightly in a smirk. “And neither will I.” He handed the MPX to Nicolas and talked him through the proper stance and grip.

“Nice.” The man complimented Nicolas as his first round struck its intended target. “Now try squeezing twice in rapid succession.”

Nicolas squeezed the trigger, then again and again. Three rounds in less than a second. It felt … powerful.

“I said twice.” The man scowled at him.

“Sorry.” Nicolas held the gun out stiffly at arm’s length.

The man glared briefly, then chuckled. “I’m just messing with you. It’s pretty fun, yeah?”

Nicolas grinned. “Yeah.”

“You’re a good shot with a rifle. What’s your name?”

“Nicolas.”

“Benjamin.” The man offered a giant hand. Nicolas couldn’t even properly grip the man’s hand to shake it; his own hand was completely swallowed up in Benjamin’s fist.

“Nice to meet you.” Nicolas gave a sharp nod of his head and said, “Do you work for Luis? I’ve never seen you before. Are you new?”

“No, I don’t work for Luis, I’m usually with Gonzalo. He wanted me to help with this delivery though.”

“Who’s Gonzalo?”

Benjamin maintained an even composure, but Nicolas detected the faintest upturn of the corners of his mouth, and the slightest twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“He’s Luis’ boss. He is the head of the Templarios.”

“Oh, wow.” Nicolas felt the heat creeping into his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember Luis mentioning him.”

“Possible he didn’t,” Benjamin said. “It’s a pretty large organization, divided into separate cells. The lower-level bosses generally work autonomously. No need for you to know your boss’s boss. Better if the lowers don’t know, in fact.”

 “Oh.” Nicolas flinched at this revelation. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t sweat it. If you’re here, now, Luis must think you have a future in the organization. You’re fine to know.” Benjamin smirked. “Wouldn’t matter to me anyway, you know?”

“But …” Nicolas frowned, perplexed, “you’re … like … the bodyguard, then, aren’t you?”

Benjamin shrugged modestly. “My father was, so now I am. Family business, you know? Not what I would have chosen but … you know ... you do what you gotta.”

“I’m keeping this one,” Benjamin announced to the other men, holding the MPX up for all to see. No one challenged him, and he collected extra magazines and a holster from the crate.

The final crate of weapons was the surprise of the day; it contained a small number of six-foot-long tubes, and a larger number of rockets.

“RPG-29.” Luis smiled at Nicolas who stared, wide-eyed. “We won’t be testing those, since everything else tested good. We’ll take their word for it on those. It would be fun to see though, no?”

Nicolas grinned and gave a nod as the men closed the crate back up and loaded it onto Luis’ truck.

Luis chuckled. “They’ll be bringing another shipment in a couple months. Perhaps we can arrange just one demonstration then.”