The Death of a Walrus

 The Death of a Walrus

"The time has come," the Walrus said,

"To talk of many things:

Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--

Of cabbages--and kings--

And why the sea is boiling hot--

And whether pigs have wings."

                                           -Lewis Carroll, the Walrus and the Carpenter

                 “God is dead.” This quote by Friedrich Nietzsche carries intense philosophical weight, denoting a radical change in man’s relationship with the divine. However, the meaning he supposed it to have was not nearly as important as the meaning it truly held. As even with his various supposed intelligences, Nietzsche did not understand the nature of gods. Gods are living beings similar to plants and animals. But instead of feeding on flesh or light they feed on belief. And the only way they can die is via starvation. In the early days gods lived for a very short amount of time, only living as long as the mollusks that accidently believed in them. But, via evolutionary advances living creatures developed the ability to communicate between one another. This allowed gods to gain multiple believers and effectively live forever. Gods still starved with new gods taking their place but, for the most part, it was stable. This environmental stability was disrupted by the very same forces that drove Mr. Nietzsche to make his statement. With the power of industrialization men could kill each other at a rate never before seen. Followers of particular gods gained the ability to kill most believers of another god through suppression and genocide. So by the time of Nietzsche at least some gods were, indeed, dead.

            And gods continue to die. For example, a god recently died in a small coastal town about thirty five miles south of San Francisco. In this town there was one of America’s largest egg farms. It was an old place. The fence, once sturdy, would fall with a strong gust of wind. The barn once painted red, was now a faded pink. Inside the barn there was machinery that looked as though it belonged in a museum. It was a place where dust prevailed, muting color everywhere. The only part of the farm that looked even relatively new was the chicken coup. Inside this coup sat the youngest thing on the farm, Nicholas Gorchakov.

            Nicholas Gorchakov, by his lineage, would not be a person that you would expect to be working on an egg farm. For three-hundred year his family had been responsible for building the ships that would be used in the Russian navy. This contract allowed his family to amass a large sum of money. As the political climate of Russia rapidly changed the Gorchakov family was forced to leave. Synchronistically, America was accepting immigrants from all countries, Nicholas’s Grandfather decided to settle near San Francisco. With the family fortune Alexander Gorchakov bought a cigarette factory, but he understood ships, not cigarettes. One bad and Greedy business deal led to another and in one generation centuries of wealth was lost. This forced Nicholas’s father to choose a more modest line of work, becoming a carpenter. And this economic position forced Nicholas to collect eggs for a living.

            One misty morning, while Nicholas concerned himself collecting eggs, in Russia a walrus sat on a hill. The walrus watched as three of his last followers were buried. The same forces which drove Nicholas’s family out of Russia were now killing that region’s gods. Now the great god, Morbog, was left alone in the land he called home, waiting to starve. For about a year he waited to no end. By now he should have starved. So he went to a soothsayer who told him that he had one last believer in a faraway land.

            It was a normal Tuesday. Nicholas woke up and collected the eggs that were laid the night before. Then he went into the house and ate breakfast with the other farm hands. After breakfast he went to feed the chickens. He did this until lunch. After lunch he collected the eggs that were laid that day. With this done he ate dinner. Then he read a book for about an hour. After a long day Nicholas went to bed. As he was laying in bed attempting to get to sleep Nicholas saw something strange. In the doorway stood a fat figure wearing a top hat. This figure concerned Nicholas so he rushed to turn on his light. 

            In his doorway stood a walrus. The walrus was wearing a three piece suit, shiny black shoes, and a top hat. As Nicholas held a shocked look on his face the walrus calmly reached into its pocket pulling out a cigar. He lit it puffing the smoke into Nicholas’s face. With this Nicholas developed the composer to ask, “wha…what are you.”

            “A god my dear boy” the walrus responded in a clear and concise voice, the type of voice you would expect Rockefeller to have.

            Without thinking Nicholas asked, “What?!”

            “I go by many names, but I believe that you were told my name is Morbog”

            “That…that’s a fairy tale my grandmother told me”

            “No matter how you have heard of me, the important thing is that you have. Without you I would be dead. You are my last believer. I need you to survive. You need to tell others my story.” After saying this the walrus vanished leaving three bronze coins. To understate, Nicholas was startled.

            The next day Nicholas asked his friends if they had drugged him. Nicholas, assumed one of his friends had slipped mescaline in his tea or something. They all denied this. After coming to this realization, in his head, Nicholas heard, “I am real, now time is fleeting, tell others my story.”

            Later that day Nicholas went to see his best friend, John, at the police station. John had never wanted to be a police officer instead wanting to fly planes like his father did. Unfortunately the air force would not accept him due to his stature. John and Nicholas ate lunch in a quaint public garden about half a mile from the police station. As they ate lunch next to well-manicured bushes Nicholas began to explain what happened to him last night. Once he finished John calmly asked Nicholas to tell him the story of Morbog. So Nicholas told John one of the stories his grandmother had told him. “Ok, back in Russia there was once a king who ruled over the poorest kingdom in the land. But, his kingdom had control over the major waterways that went through Russia. After a famine hit, the king prayed to the Gods to give them help and only one god responded to the king’s prayers Morbog, a malnourished minor god of walruses and greed. The king asked Morbog what he could do to help his people and after some thought Morbog responded that he had an idea. Pulling out a silver circle, Morbog explained to the king that it was called money and that it didn’t have any value until you applied value onto it. Under the instruction of Morbog the king had his smiths make one hundred coins from worthless metals like silver and gold. He then gave them out to his citizens promising value for each coin. Soon the empire made their coins a standard currency by forcing every merchant that used its water ways to trade with them. After only a year the poor and hungry kingdom became a fat and rich empire. As these ‘riches’ spread so did greed, making the walrus fat”

            As soon as Nicholas had finished his story a storm cloud moved overhead raining on the two men. They left in two separate directions heading back to work. On Nicholas’s walk back he had to cross a beach and as he walked through the sand the walrus suddenly began to walk next to him. “You have done well” the walrus began “it’s a place to start but I need more”

            “How many will you need?” said the carpenter’s son.  

            “That, cannot be defined old sport.”

            “Well, if I am going to be telling people about you, I want something in return.”

            “But of course, there is always a price, what do you desire? I can deliver you the secrets of the gods, the riches of kings, the fish of the seas, or if you desire the flesh of the virgins.” The beast took a long puff from his cigar looking exasperated by the speed of his language. After his pause he thoughtfully added “but of course after you gain me followers”

            “So, nothing now?”

            “Yes”

            Nicholas returned to the farm no longer concerning himself with the affairs of gods or walruses. Nicholas returned to his normal life. At least for a moment because the next day John had been given a letter saying that he had been drafted to go to some country with a funny name, this was a shock at first but ended up being a blessing as he was going to be trained on how to fly helicopters. Except for that mild disturbance Nicholas’s life went back to routine. But, after that time of peace, a hungry voice appeared in Nicholas’s head. It told Nicholas that it was starving and that he needed to tell people his story. He ignored it. The next day he heard the same voice again and again once a day for five days. Then it disappeared. The next night as Nicholas was going to bed he saw a sight of horrors. It was Morbog that was unmistakable, but he had grown thin, his clothes no longer fit, hanging loosely off his body, his eyes were sunken, and his top hat had sagged. This image stayed in Nicholas’s head. No matter how hard he tried to shake it. The next day Nicholas decided to go to San Francisco, he could not tell you why.

            As he entered the city, Nicholas felt power emanate around him. He was a messenger of the gods and felt like it. He walked down Pine. As he walked Nicholas saw every facet of his era, from a woman giving fortunes, to men selling peace. Looking around, Nicholas found a place to do what he had to do. He stood up on a rather large stone and began to talk. Nicholas did not know the power of what he was standing on. One hundred year ago it had been used as the block on which human capital was sold. This made that stone hated like no other stone, and hatred breeds power. Because of this power Nicholas was able to quickly generate a crowd.

            As it turns out Morbog was rather lucky to be in need at this time in place. As the citizens of San Francisco at this time were perfectly primed to believe in a god of greed and money. They heard stories of him giving his followers money and thought in that self-important tone all too common of their generation “that could be me.” Day after day Nicholas returned to the stone collecting more followers each time.

            One day as he was walking back to the farm Nicholas caught a glimpse of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her very existence was pornographic. She was wearing a flowy skirt that had a diamond pattern repeated on it, a t-shirt with a penguin on it, and rose colored glasses. When he saw her first she was leading a group of similarly dressed individuals in a chanting of Hare Krishna. As they were repeating the mantra Nicholas and the girl met eyes for a split second. He walked up to talk to her but decided otherwise mid stride.

            He continued to tell stories. Some he knew from his childhood. Some he heard from a well-fed voice in his head. After doing this every day for a week, a bag of money was laid at the stoop of his door. So he continued and the money kept coming in. Nicholas was beginning to gain a reputation in the city, with some beginning to think that he was a profit. One day as he was speaking he saw the girl that he saw before, this time dressed like a Babylonian priestess, as he was speaking he saw her listening. Once he concluded she shook her head in disappointment.  For about three months he toiled at his work telling stories on his stone which now was gaining a different type of power.

            One day as Nicholas was sorting through his mail he saw one letter that stood out. It was marked as being sent by the United States army. It said that Nicolas’s friend John had been killed in action, with the date and location of his death. John had no living family, his mother was killed by cancer and his father through a particularly heated argument over politics that ended in gunfire. So it only made sense that the army would tell Nicholas of his friend’s death. With this disheartening news Nicholas, more than ever, felt like he needed to tell others a story or two.

            Once he felt that he was done for the day Nicholas walked back home in a somber mood. As he walked back he met the priestess he saw before. She was wearing the same penguin shirt as she was when they first saw each other. In the breathy overtly sexualized voice that you would expect by looking at her she asked or rather told him “you look bad. Somebody died.” before Nicholas could speak again she said “you are going to come with me” ushering Nicholas into her van. On the side of the van there was an abstract picture of a wizard fighting a dinosaur as the Cheshire cat looked on in the background. Inside the car there was carpet lining every surface in every color of the rainbow, particularly a disturbing shade of brown.

            They drove to a shack with a sign reading “acid tests” over the door. They entered a room with various beanbags and lava lamps scattered about. The girl handed Nicholas a piece of paper that had the picture of an oyster on it. He was told to let it dissolve on his tongue and he followed the instructions. Nicholas did not remember what happened next, only certain details. The only part that he could remember was a penguin wearing a clean white shirt, an overcoat, and yellow tinted sunglasses that looked as though they were made in a much earlier time.  Depending on how you looked at it, it either looked like the penguin or the girl who had brought Nicholas there. It softly said to Nicholas “you know, I hate walruses.”

            The next day the local newspaper ran a story, “Even one time can be too many: Local farm hand emitted into Mental Hospital after attending acid test.”