Free In a Mist by Devon Code-mcneil

does the knight go, exactly, when it passes through queen or rook or pawn? It exists as pure energy, as the vehicle of the intellect, the assertion of human will. Just as Ilsa and Victor Laszlo fly off into the Moroccan mist, so does the White knight vanish into thin air. The standard rules of engagement are rendered irrelevant. The vanishing is a subtle, spontaneous extension of the preternatural power the knight has possessed all along. What was Bogart attempting (and failing) to communicate to the receptive viewer of his time? What does the vanishing knight communicate to Bogart’s twenty-second century audience? These are the questions I pondered as I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke the next morning I believed in God.
    * * *
    La Belle Aurore: the name of the café Rick Blaine leaves behind in occupied France when he flees to Casablanca. The beautiful dawn. The silhouette of the name cast by Parisian sunlight. On the other side of the window, Sam plays “As Time Goes By,” Ilsa and Rick sip champagne while German guns rumble in the distance. It was raining when I awoke on the morning of February 18 th , 2105. I had never thought very much about God before. My life’s work was dedicated to a secular aspect of an overwhelmingly secular society. Nevertheless, when I woke up that morning I was struck with awe and humility. I suddenly possessed a firm belief in a transcendent, omniscient, omnipresent Supreme Being. I had no proof that a God existed, but I had utter faith that this was indeed the case. I did not know what my belief meant or where it came from. My parents were atheists raised by atheist parents who came from agnostics before them. There are still believers in 2105. They constitute a fringe minority, a dwindling assortment of fragmented religious sects. I have never had an interest in their faith-communities or their anachronistic, twenty-first century theologies. I have never had any friends who believed in God. There is Ahmed from the Faculty of Astro-biology, with whom I occasionally play raquetball. Someone once mentioned in the locker room, derisively, that he is Muslim. But we have never discussed religion. No one ever does.
    There is one reference to God in
Casablanca
. It occurs in the note Rick receives before he boards the train.
    I cannot go with you or ever see you again.

You must not ask why. Go my darling

and God bless you.
    God bless you. This, if anything, is my most meaningful point of reference to the Divine. Ilsa’s note to Rick beseeches blindfaith, asking of Rick’s love what that love makes hardest to give. Ingrid Bergman has an imploring way of looking at her leading men; there is in her eyes an almost desperate devotion.
    At first I tried to set my absurd faith aside and get on with my work. I treated my belief much as I would a head cold or a hangover. I took an Aspirin, went to bed early and drank plenty of fluids. Otherwise, I persevered with my research, marked assignments, and played racquetball. But there was no longer satisfaction in these pursuits. My faith persisted. It was not limited to moments of idleness, but was with me in my dreams and in my waking thoughts and in every action I performed. I was no longer content. So I tried a diff erent approach. I devoted more time to my research than ever before, attempting to eliminate all extraneous concerns from my daily routine. I told myself I would complete my dissertation by the end of the summer. But the more I threw myself into my work, the more my faith flourished. I saw God in everything around me. My work, along with everything else in my life, was superceded by my perfect knowledge of God’s being.
    One night, as I lay in bed with Cynthia, slightly inebriated and unable to manifest my aff ections, I confided my belief quite spontaneously.
    â€œCynthia, I believe in God.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” she asked, of course, and so I explained as best I could, including an account of the