Rise of the Tellers 19: The Coming of Adam

Hello my name is Tier-ti na-mun. I was asked by my master to come and try to explain to you what happened in 2011 that made everything possible. I am here then to tell you about the coming of Adam. I am here to tell you about how the mind was gathered and mastered. For I was the architect of that event.

I was once called Shush. Assassin took me into his desert. He beat me. He fought me. He taught me about real pain. He healed me and he built me. He taught me of his supremacy and he taught me that I had a purpose. I will not go into the lessons he gave me. They are mine to cherish. My nightmare to relive. All I can tell you is that when I came out of his desert and my training began, I was ten.

I was taught to kill. I learned the peace that comes with having the lives of other people in your hand. When you have been a victim all of your life and you are taught that with the flick of a wrist you can take a man’s life no matter how big he is, no matter how strong. Then you are a victim no more.

Master taught me how to read. Then I read.

Master taught me how to run. Then I ran.

Master taught me how to pray. And then I prayed.

My master taught me how to prepare a meal for him. How to make his bed. How to clean up after him. One day he grabbed the implements of a good shave and set them before me. He said to me that these instruments were all that was needed to give a great shave. He told me to figure it out. Then he left.

It took me five hours of intense study of tools I had never seen before but I was able to take the brush and foam the lather. I was able to wet the blade and shave my face. Next was my hair. Then I was bald.

I learned not long after that the true power of pain is inaction. True and absolute pain renders you unable to act. My pain as a child did not render me useless. It did not stop my life. I was still able to act.

And so, I was healed.

My name is Tier-ti na-mun. Loosely translated that means “Perfect in the eyes of God.”

My master built me to be the perfect servant. The perfect killer. And the perfect friend to Rebekah.

I am not her husband. She belongs to my master. I am celibate. I have never kissed her. I have never held her. I will never touch her in any familiar way except in a hug. I am her best friend. I understand her intricacies and can guide my master in her ways to help him understand the things about her that he cannot fathom.

He came to me in 2011 and he said this to me.

“Tier, this is not working.”

“How can I help, master?” I said.

“Shade is overcome by Shadow. Prince is ruling over Artist. Teth is getting restless. And Adam, the Child, still roams free contributing nothing.” Assassin stood over me but I would not look up at him. My place is not to make eye contact with him. “We need a new leader and you are going to build one for me,” my master said.

“Tell me from what parts you would have me build you a leader, master, and I will do it,” I said.

“You know Rebekah better than any one being living. Take Adam in hand and craft for her the perfect husband. Make us the perfect father. He must be willing to perform all his duties. He must be able to perform all of ours.

“Make him fearless, so we do not need Smilin’ Jack.

“Make him rebellious, so we do not need Shadow.

“Make him protective, so we do not need Guardian.

“Make him artistic, so we do not need Artist.

“Make from this young man the replacement to all of us.

“Teach him to kill so that I can rest.

“Be his instructor, never his friend. Show him no mercy and give him a vision. Make the man that she deserves. We were all created to make him safe, to keep him pure so that no darkness could twist his mind as ours was twisted. Now that we have a blank canvas, I ask you to paint a masterpiece of a man for her.”

And I did.

It took me six months to mature Adam to the age of twenty-one. It took me six months to make a father and a man out of him. Took me six months to train him to be a husband.

When I was done, I had crafted our best self.

When I was done with Adam, I did not bring him to my master for approval. My creation was beyond my master’s right to criticize.

Adam gave Tobin and Rayph a single father to look at and take direction from. He provided singular focus to our writing and created Perilisc with his vision. He gave Rebekah a man she could stay true to. And he sent us all into retirement.

When we said our goodbyes to him and Rebekah, I was asked to explain how this would work from then on.

My analogy was very simple.

Imagine a backyard BBQ. All of us are there. Guardian argues with Shadow about manhood. Servant gets Bekah a beer. Artist is creating balloon animals out of light. Lenore sits on Jack’s lap twisting his long greasy hair into tight curls.

We are all at this party. We are all relaxing and having fun. We laugh at the kids that run at our feet. The alters flirt with Rebekah as she walks the yard sassy and slapping away groping hands. They are all welcome to have anything they want.

But this is Adam’s house. This is his yard. His kids. Rebekah is his wife. He is on the grill. He is making dinner.

We are always welcome. But we are now the guests of our own life. Nothing we own is ours.

Adam has come.


This chapter is from Reality of the Unreal Mind, Vol. 2: Normal Street.

Vol. 1: Teardrop Road is available now on Amazon.

3 thoughts on “Rise of the Tellers 19: The Coming of Adam

  1. Oof. That was a visceral and emotional image, heartbreaking yet beautiful. And oh so perfect.
    Cool, now I’m crying. Sorry to comment so often, I find a lot of my own healing comes after reading your work. So many of us relate that it opens us up somehow, allows us to feel.
    Do you ever imagine your death? I know you have. Not the painful one where you heart has been ripped out and no matter how detailed the plan the only part that is honest about it is the desperate search for control. Not that death, but the perfect one, where everything has fallen into its place and true peace has finally embraced you? I had that perfect death once, at least I thought I had at the time, it had been foretold and then scripted by the one of mine that is like your Artist, enacted by the one of mine that is like your Assassin then embraced by the one of ours that is like your Lenore. After, when the confusion of still living came we always wrote that moment in that peaceful embrace as our perfect, we reflected onto its calm and remembered it fondly, but it was an illusion.

    It took me watching the final episode of The Good Place to realise that initially, and then again just now in your words.

    Everyone inside was touched by those final paragraphs Jesse, we have cancer, we think about death so differently now and there’s been a fear of losing that perfectness that came that first time, because now we have no control, we have no script. But that image you just gave us, that’s something we can hold on to, that’s somethings so beautiful that if when my time comes if I am unable to find my own, I know I can picture that scene, replace yours with mine and know we are all here together as one, that the pain and hardship and the wonder and beauty of journey we took was in fact, absolutely perfect.
    Thank you.

    1. First of all, comment on all of my posts if you want to. Comment more than once if it helps. Like tonight, I might get back to you late, but I will always respond eventually. I think of my death maybe more than I should. It’s a source of peace for me now. But there’s a lot I want to do before I get there. I imagine you’re going through the same thing. I’m sorry to hear about the cancer. We don’t get to choose how we go out. I imagine that it haunts you. I hope you can find peace in the end. If you can’t, then take mine with you. Artist will sing to you, Guardian will stand over you, Shadow will cry for you, but none of us will ever forget you.

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