Free The Terminals by Michael F. Stewart

of a robed monk with a cowl covering his face, standing before an altar. He held a serpentine blade that pointed above a human sacrifice. Notes in the margins were written in different hands and languages. “Only after their expulsion from Rome in 80 A.D. did tales of orgy and magic come to light. The Borborites believed that experience was the ultimate manifestation of godhood, and by the satisfaction of all carnal desires they could perpetuate their lives for eternity.” He paged through scenes of sex, feasting, torture, and drunkenness.
    â€œAfter their exile, reports of their experimentation continued, but no proof of their whereabouts emerged. The disappearances of village children, the shift in slave routes to include a stop near Nag Hammadi, Egypt—all were ignored in the larger context of the Roman Empire’s glorious expansion.” Charlie unfolded a map, frayed and yellowed with age. On it was a red line that traced down the Nile and into the Mediterranean. His fingertip covered a village on the edge of the Nile.
    Charlie glanced up and must have registered my bewilderment, because he let out a deep breath and chewed his lip before continuing.
    â€œThe Borborites were just one Gnostic sect, others were good. The Valentinians left Rome to found a monastery in the desert. Little did they know that they did so in the shadow of the Borborite stronghold. The Valentinians sought gnosis as well, but their days were filled with fasting, prayer, and labor dedicated to the discovery of their inner knowledge: their divine spark.”
    â€œGnosis?” I asked. “What’s gnosis?”
    Charlie’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Gnosis is what we seek. It is knowledge so powerful that to earn it is to gain power over eternity. Transcendent knowledge.”
    I noted his use of we . “All right, so the Borborites tried for gnosis through experience and the Valentinians through introspection. Two paths to the same goal.”
    â€œYes, the Valentinians traded with villagers, but kept to themselves, shunning outside contact.” His finger traced from the village into the desert to the site of an oasis.
    â€œBut eventually the good that lay within them and the evil that lay without the walls of their monastery forced the Valentinians beyond their gates. In the desert they discovered evil so rancid that the sand had been soaked with blood. The founding members of the Borborites—their leader Seth and the Keeper of Secrets Theudas—they both neared the end of their natural lives. They would do anything to extend them.”
    â€œSo the Valentinians and the Borborites exist today as well?” I interrupted.
    â€œThough few would call themselves such,” Charlie agreed. “Very few.”
    â€œBut you said, you’ve met Hillar.”
    â€œYes. You see, the Borborites believed that by finding gnosis they could reincarnate, allowing them to live on and continue their depravity across millennia. The leader of the Valentinians, Valentinus, saw this future where Seth and Theudas became murderers and military leaders. He bound his spirit and that of Pius, his follower, to the spirits of Seth and Theudas. They gave up the Pleroma, what you’d call heaven, in order to protect the Earth from the Borborites until they could stop the cycle of rebirth and move on themselves. And so it has continued across time, the good reincarnations battling the evil reincarnations: pirates, Nazis, dictators, and serial killers.”
    Brother Harkman held my gaze for a minute before I realized he waited for a response. The monastery was entirely silent. The music done. Night had come.
    â€œYou’re a Valentinian?” I asked. “You’re not just an expert on Gnosticism, but actually Gnostic?”
    Charlie appeared to hunch under a great burden and flushed with embarrassment.
    â€œI am Gnostic, and if I’m to believe my mentor, I’m Valentinus