Spiritual Awakening Argumentative Essay

Ch. 9 Preparations It was decided in those early meetings that the best crowd to appeal to at first were the Birdie’s of the world. The ones that would attend purely out of the possibility to have a little fun. Benny used her work to print out flyers they came up with. As this was the very beginning of their operation, they had pretty much no clue what to put on them, so they all read:
Spiritual Awakening
The Truth About God and Religion
Congregation Every Tuesday Evening- 10 pm
Come Join at 283 27th Ave. Not exactly detailed, and it did nothing to dispel later rumors that they were a cult, because I mean, isn’t that exactly what you’d expect a cult flyer to look like? But all the same Buzz passed them out to people at the speakeasy, and
Birdie gave them to some of her friends. Meanwhile, Eila and Ambrose spent the weekend trying to create a brand new religious text. They started off by drawing from as many existing religions as possible, but that only ended with them pulling some very basic threads that ran through all of them, which then essentially boiled down to “Don’t be bad” yet again. So they started over by just listing things that people should be. “Okay, let’s start with the basics. Like, no murder.” Eila said while slamming a giant philosophical book shut. “Well what is murder, really?
Do deaths in war count? What if it’s in self-defense?” replied the professor. “How about, ‘treat others the way you want to be treated’? Everyone can agree to that, surely?” “Great, so now we have the Golden Rule, and don’t be bad. Genius, we’ll be praised for our wisdom around the globe.” Eila sighed. “Don’t lose hope, we’ve got time to figure it out. Religions didn’t appear overnight, they developed over thousands of years. We can change and adjust over time.” the professor collected his notes and books and replaced them neatly to the shelves of the speakeasy storerooom. Somehow he had shown to be much more tidy outside of his own office. “I’m going to ask Aten about it during the presentation this Tuesday. Who chose Tuesdays anyway?” “I believe it was Mr. Mead. It’s his least busy day, so he can close early and meet up at this location he has set up for us.” Ambrose said while gathering up his coat and cane. “You know how he’s paying for it?” “Not the slightest idea. Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised I would visit Ms. Bennett’s work today and see this marvelous magazine she prints.” “Of course, I know how she loves showing it off.” “Certainly, and I shall see you on Tuesday, as tonight I am sorry to say I have to return to
Cornell.” “I’ll see you then, and have a safe trip.” Eila spent the rest of that Sunday evening flipping through enormous textbooks and analytical papers on various world religions and philosophies, and even the occasional book on psychology and the human condition. Once the sounds of laughter and music faded from the other side of the door, she emerged from the storeroom, and set her pile of books and notes on a corner table. Buzz watched her as she went, and after a few seconds he dropped what he was doing and went to sit next to her. This was extremely bizarre behavior, as Buzz was rarely seen anywhere but behind his bar, or cleaning up after his patrons. He was the sort of man who always had to be doing something, even if that something was cleaning a glass for the third time in a row. No one ever noticed anyways. But this particular night he sat down across from Eila, and stared at her as she flipped through Why We Behave Like Human Beings. After a little while of this the oddity of his behavior became too much to bear, and she looked up. “Can I help you?” “Are you okay?” “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” “You’ve died three times in the last three weeks.” He said simply. “Okay, well other than that.” “Haven’t heard from Frederick since the first meeting.” Eila shut the book and crossed her arms indignantly. “I’m sure he’s just having a hard time adjusting. It’s not a big deal.” “Okay,” Buzz leaned back in his chair, “so why the books?” “I need to know this stuff. For the good of the planet.” Buzz nodded, not cruely or with particularly disbelief, but Eila still stared him down. “I do! There’s nothing wrong with committing myself to this.” “Never said there was.” “Good.” Buzz let his gaze wander around the room, but stayed seated. Eila tried to continue her reading, but quickly collapsed onto the book. Buzz waited until her sobbing had subsided before standing up, and disappearing behind the bar for a while. When he returned he was holding a mug of steaming tea. Eila lifted her head slightly, and took the cup from him. “You can make tea here?” Buzz didn’t answer, patted her slightly on the back, and then went back to work cleaning the speakeasy. Eila watched him, familiar in his routine, but enjoying it all the same. When he finished he walked behind the bar, picked up a glass, and started wiping it out. “Isn’t that one already clean?” Eila asked from her corner.
Buzz shrugged in response. After a second he tilted his head towards the door. “Birdie isn’t back yet.” Eila nodded, understanding, and turned back to her reading. They waited for a long time for Birdie to come home, and eventually she did. I’d love to tell you the details of Birdie’s night, it involved a lot of booze, at least one movie star, a strange underground lounge, and, I kid you not, a goddamn peacock. Seriously. But it doesn’t exactly pertain to the story, and I’ve wasted enough time as it is, so we’re going to stick with Eila and Buzz’s perspective of the evening. Birdie came stumbling through the door, her hair a mess that framed the wide smile on her face. Buzz immediately left from his position behind the bar, and guided her to a seat. “What the hell-.” “Shhhh… I don’t like you.” Buzz stared at her for a second, and then turned around and returned to wiping down the same glass, but this time his face seemed to be stubbornly refusing to show any emotion of any kind. Eila took his place in front of Birdie’s slouched
figure. “Where have you been?” “Nowhere silly, don’t let Buzz-Buzz worry you.” Birdie slurred her words together and clumsily tried to remove her shoes, but only succeeded in sliding even farther into the armchair. Birdie forced her face to look straight up at Eila as she over pronounced the word “None.” and then burst into a fit of giggles. “Right, you just went out and had so much clean, harmless fun that you’ve turned into a goofy idiot.” “Mm-hm.” Birdie seemed very pleased that Eila had figured out what she meant so quickly. “I can’t believe you sometimes, little bird. I know you’re a free spirit, but this stuff every night… It’s worrisome.” “I’m still in one piece, and I’m nowhere near as bad as Tilly you know.” Eila sat down in a chair across from the girl, desperately trying to make real eye contact with her. “I’ve seen what happens to people, Birdie. At the hospital sometimes we’ll get them. The ones that tried something they maybe shouldn’t have? Tried it a few too many times?” Eila watched for any hint of understanding in Birdie’s eyes, but instead she replied, “It’s harmless fun. Now hush. I’m sleeping.” Birdie curled up in her seat and immediately fell asleep. Eila sighed, and joined Buzz at the bar. “She’s going to get herself killed, you know.” Buzz nodded in agreement, his eyes still on Birdie. “I know this is hard for you.” He nodded again, but didn’t pursue the conversation. “Should close up now.” Eila understood, gathered her supplies, and left for her home.