The Altar: Character Profile: Joseph Zerra

This is my way of working on the novel.

Name: Joseph Nathaniel Zerra (pronounced ZEHR-a, rhymes with Sarah)
Age: 41
Birthday: October 11, 2418
Race: 90% white, 10% Hispanic
Hair: black, very thin, cut short, balding prematurely.
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 223 pounds, much of it lean muscle.
Wears notably round glasses, and often bears red marks on his face from lab goggles. Well-tanned skin. No known health conditions. Left-handed. Respectably athletic.

Occupation: Department of Primitive Studies, Head Field Scientist (observes Primitives and reports on their activities).
Relationship Status: Married. Wife's name: Andrea Alden Zerra. No children.
Family: No siblings. Father: Alexander Zerra. Mother: Rebecca Mollen Zerra.
Closest friends:

Hobbies: playing guitar (classically trained), listening to prewar electronica (Animal Collective, !!!, Passion Pit) and prog (The Mars Volta, Between the Buried and Me), attending meetings of the Elite Society of Thought (a philosophy group of sorts), playing lacrosse and basketball with fellow Elites.

He enjoys his work immensely and is fully devoted to the Elite cause of repopulating Earth with the best and brightest. However he cares more for the Primitives than many of his fellow Elites. He believes some of the Primitives have just as much potential as the Elites. However he is forced to keep these thoughts to himself to avoid the watchful eye of the Genius.

As he is a bit of a Renaissance man, he is fairly popular with the opposite sex; however has been faithful to his wife for all fourteen years of their marriage.

Another novel idea. Pun intended.

No seriously, I'm going to at least attempt to write this one. This isn't like my ridiculous 'write a novel that captures the teenage experience' idea, which I think I knew was over my head before I even finished the post explaining it.

This time my central theme is a bit simpler. I want to try and explore the feeling of helplessness, the horror of watching things unfold before one's eyes without any power to make things any better, no matter how much one wants to. Also, I have long found a strange, macabre beauty in the idea of human sacrifice--not as a punishment for prisoners, but in those that honestly think they are appeasing some higher power by having someone stab them or burn them. (This makes me sound really creepy. Sorry. I'm not a psycho, I swear.) So, why not combine the two ideas, you ask? And I answer: I did.

Here's the background behind where my would-be novel is heading. Names/dates subject to change.

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It's 2459. During the years 2015-2017, there was the inevitable nuclear war that everyone had been fearing since the 50s. However there was another weapon that proved equally devastating--the EMP (electromagnetic pulse) bomb that had been secretly in development by several world powers. EMP bombs rendered useless all the electronic devices that had made modern life possible, in addition to most of the defenses against nuclear weapons. The United States was utterly devastated, as was Europe, Latin America, Asia, and most of South America. Northern Africa was hit hard by radiation, but most of the continent was able to prepare for the fallout thanks to a last-ditch United Nations effort to save at least a few humans. Eventually a few African terrorist groups came to the Americas in attempts to take over the continent but quickly realized that there was nothing valuable left anymore--only a few thousand people had survived, and they had resorted to primal tendencies, as food was short, and most of it was irradiated to dangerous levels.

In the year 2059, however, a strange individual began making appearances in regions of what was once the United States. He called himself simply the Genius. At his side was a strange, mentally unstable individual whom Genius named Amos. What happened during the Genius's appearances never changed. He stood silently in some high place, round sunglasses hiding his eyes, while Amos danced crazily and babbled frantically. Then he would walk to a water supply, pull out a Geiger counter that had somehow survived the war, and show that the water was unfit for human consumption. Then Amos would dance even more frantically, and the Genius would reveal a strange electronic instrument, touch it to the water, and then pull out a small glass from his backpack and drink the water. Then he would leave, leaving nothing behind but the Geiger counter.

As the Genius's appearances grew more frequent, some began to decipher the Prophet's babbling. They realized that he always said the same things--and every time, he seemed to be calling on the name of a deity. When enough people realized this, the Genius spoke for the first time to a crowd of many survivors. He said that the war was punishment from an angry god named Xaheros and began to preach the doctrine of this new god. In the wake of such destruction and agony all remnants of traditional religion had been lost--the few who held to their faith had been slaughtered by angry survivors. So a Aztec-like bloodthirsty, sacrifice-dependent god seemed totally reasonable to these desperate villagers. The Genius preached that Xaheros would continue to bring pain and misery on the survivors until he had been satisfied with virgin sacrifices. And immediately the survivors began a regular schedule of sacrificing young girls--most by fire.

The Genius, of course, knew every word he spoke was a lie. The Genius was, as his name implied, the possessor of an incredible scientific mind. During the war, he had secretly discovered the secret to biological immortality and a way to completely remove radioactive material from any substance, but seeing the brutality and violence around him, he deemed the world unfit to share in his discoveries--except for sixty of his similarly brilliant, like-minded companions. As the decades passed, his community grew, all sharing in his immortality and radioactive immunity. He gave them a new name--the Elites. Those who were not Elites were Primitives. The Elites had another gift as well--technology. The Genius knew the infrastructure of most common electronics, and he and his fellow Elites worked to slowly restore the world to its prewar condition. However, the Genius's love of science ensured that he could not leave the Primitives to themselves. They were not fit to share in his glory, certainly, but they must be observed--much could be learned from their activities.

By 2459, the Genius's community has expanded to about one thousand, all descendants of the original sixty.

Into this world are introduced the two protagonists. One is an Elite--Joseph Zerra, a third-generation Elite. He is sent to observe a Primitive village in eastern Pennsylvania. (No, I'm not bashing my hometown.) He is under orders to have absolutely no interaction with the Primitives--if he does, he will die.

The other protagonist is a boy of nineteen years of age named (either Ralis or Avron or something else, haven't decided yet). He has seen the pain of living in the postwar world, and he is extremely skeptical of the doctrine of Xaheros. Yet there is nothing for him to do--he will be executed as a heretic if he preaches against this god, and he's far from capable of leading any sort of rebellion.

And this, you loyal readers who've actually read this whole gargantuan post, is the setting for what I hope to make into a novel over some indeterminate amount of time. Tentative title--The Altar. More details will come with time, followed by (hopefully) the story itself, in bits and pieces.

more religious musings

Taken from John Steinbeck's East of Eden:

"Liza spoke sharply: "What my mother would mind is what I mind, and I'll tell you what I mind. You're never satisfied to let the Testament alone. You're forever picking at it and questioning it. You turn it over the way a 'coon turns over a wet rock, and it angers me."
"I'm just trying to understand it, Mother."
"What is there to understand? Just read it. There it is in black and white. Who wants you to understand it? If the Lord God wanted you to understand it, He'd have given you to understand or He'd have set it down different.""

Before I tear Liza apart, I must commend her on one thing: I would love to have that kind of absolute, unshakable faith in the Bible and in God Himself. Doubt sucks, especially when you hate uncertainties.

But unfortunately, I can't leave it at that. Steinbeck has just pinpointed what I find to be one of modern Christianity's greatest flaws. Why wouldn't you mull over the Scriptures, trying to understand them? It's divine truth written down in words--who said it would be easy to understand? There has to be a lot of thought that goes into processing it; otherwise Christianity would be a worthless checklist and the Bible would be little more than a textbook.

Christians, don't be afraid to think. Deep thought doesn't lead you away from God unless you choose it to. Scripture's true beauty often comes after you dig deep into its context and struggle with the contradictions until they are resolved. Why only read the surface of the Bible when so much more awaits you?

That's all I've got for now.

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Now playing: !!! - Yadnus

the stereotypical graduation post

I didn't want this blog to turn into something like my old Xanga, but I think high school graduation merits some reflection.

Well, all of you that were at Souderton's graduation, I think we can all say...wow, what a trip. I'll recount my educational experience the best I can.

Elementary school: Ugh. I was loud, tactless, sheltered, brainy and arrogant. Terrible combination, which is probably why I had no friends. Let's not discuss those five years.

Middle school: Terrible. Still no friends, but now I didn't know anybody, either. By the end of seventh grade, things started to look up, and I met someone who would change my life forever.

Eighth grade: A year of great angst and great changes. I found Honors classes and finally began to accept myself for who I was, no longer deluded by dreams of being athletic (oh, that's so funny now!) I was a nerd and proud of it. I thrived under the increased challenge of my course load and loved many of the people teaching me. I started taking private lessons under Mr. Kline, who worked miracles in me as a player. However, I was ill-equipped to deal with my newfound emotional capacity. Yes, I had finally fallen head over heels for a girl, and that girl was not there for the taking, and I had no idea of what to do. So I was basically a big ol' pile of angst.

Ninth grade: Even more changes. Now it was time for marching band, where my pent-up intensity and focus were finally given an outlet, and I started to meet some of my best friends. And then in February, after a fresh batch of angst, I turned things around and began my first relationship...which was a resounding success early on.

Tenth grade: Now school gets serious. Honors Chem posed quite a challenge, but I survived and made the fateful decision of signing up for AP Chem. Cracks started appearing in the relationship, but I met another girl who would end up changing my life, though in an entirely different way. (How'd I meet her? I literally knew nobody in my lunch except Zac. I sat next to him and started talking to the girl across from me...the rest is history.) Marching band turned sour with a new director, but I found Mirage instead, and I loved it, never thinking I'd give it up. That summer, I went to Harvey Cedars and almost immediately became best friends with Carter, someone who seemed to be my slightly more energetic, more fashionable twin.

Eleventh grade: Oh boy. AP Chem started to affect every aspect of my life...how stupid is that?! The relationship briefly fell apart, and was forced back together by force of will. I spent almost all of my time at home doing Chem homework. I was forced to give up drumline just to stay sane. Jazz band did its best to substitute, but we never reached our potential. (Though it was a laugh riot all the way.) I started to deal with the incoming hugeness of college and not knowing what I wanted to do with my life. The relationship ended right after school. College visits took over my summer. One school happened to stand out...the University of Maryland. It was never topped.

Twelfth grade: Summer was...eventful. Crisis struck, and I struggled to deal with something that was way over my head. But when school started, I was...enjoying myself. I was free. I was a big bad senior. I knew the ropes. The school was new. Seniors had a whole new freshman class of underlings. I tried not to kill one of them for an entire marching band season, one that culminated with my best performance (and probably the band's) in years. I got into UM with a scholarship. I had my bits of angst, but they were minor. And by mid-February, I decided to try that relationship thing again, and for a little while, it was glorious. Everything seemed to suggest that it'd be a long, healthy, enjoyable relationship...

Then everything fell apart. Within a week, I discovered that three of the people closest to me had eating disorders--and one, as her blog will tell you, was in my family. One easily could have died, and another wasn't far behind. Two of them were put in a clinic to get over it--one for a month, one for six weeks. I was surrounded by misery, frustration and pain. I would frequently come home to see my parents talking and my mom in tears. I was utterly helpless, and I couldn't stand it.

On top of this, what should have been Mirage's best season ever ended with a baffling disappointment, relationship #2 ended (and I've been struggling with it ever since), and overall, I couldn't enjoy myself. I felt like I was throwing myself into distractions because I couldn't face reality without feeling pain. (True.) And you know what? It's still not over.

So...graduation. It's a great thing. I'm free, and I know it. I wish it wasn't tempered by all the tragedies of my senior year. But now that I've gotten the negatives out of the way, let's look at the positives.

I am so much happier with the person I've become than with the person I was. I'm starting to get a handle on things. I know myself a little bit better. I'm learning what I value and that it doesn't have to be the same as what anyone else's values (Politics.). But it can if I want to. (Religion).)

I've had some of the best teachers a guy could ask for. Spizz. Lozano. Tucker. McLaughlin. Gallagher. Ruth. Without those teachers (and more), there's no way I'd ever be where I am now.

I have some of the best friends I could ever ask for. Seriously. You put up with all my crap and still manage to make life fun for me. Wow. I can tell you guys everything, and you've helped me through this big old mess that was the last few months.

If the old proverb and Kanye are true, that that (if you're Kanye, add two more "that"s) don't kill me can only make me stronger, which means I should be a whole lot stronger when this is over.

I have so much to be thankful for, really. I shouldn't be so down all the time.

Those of you still at Souderton, learn from my mistakes. Don't let the world get you down. Persevere through the tragedy. Do what you can do to fix your problems and leave the rest up to God (or whatever deity you prefer, or whatever absence of deity you prefer). Strive for excellence--not just in academics but in life, in everything you do.

And stand for something. (If I had been valedictorian/salutatorian, I would have centered my speech on this idea. Though, as it stands, Joey's speech ruled.) Stand up. Do not be moved unless we're taking a route that we have not pursued.

And remember this, the chorus I based my entire college application essay on.

"With downcast eyes, there's more to living than being alive."

And then remember this.

"And we'll all float on okay, and we'll all float on alright."

And finally, remember this.

"Don't stop believin'."