Prophecy Inc.

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Prophet Uriah sat outside Head Prophet Emmanuel’s office, hands clasped tightly in his lap, his foot tapping nervously on the marble floor.

Prophet Emmanuel would like to see you, the email read, at your earliest convenience.

It was time stamped 5:30AM, just a few hours after Uriah had posted his latest prophecy.

“5:30AM?” Uriah thought as he rode up the elevator that morning. “Uh-oh.”

At last the Head Prophet’s door opened, and his assistant motioned Uriah into the large, modern corner office. Glass, steel, leather. Prophecy Inc. was the number one prophecy company in the world. Head Prophet Emmanuel stood facing the large window overlooking Sixth Avenue, his back to the door.

“I-is now a good time, Sir?” Uriah asked.

Head Prophet Emmanuel turned and smiled.

“I knew you were coming,” Head Prophet Emmanuel said. “I’m a prophet, too, you know, heh-heh.”

Emmanuel’s unusually friendly demeanor only made Uriah more nervous.

Uriah had been working at Prophecy Inc for a year now, rising quickly among the ranks. His prophecies were lauded for their gruesome specificity and terrible detail; where others foresaw mere “fires,” Uriah told of “blackened forests, branches like the hands of he dead”, of cities engulfed in a “furious sea of flames,” of mothers “throwing screaming babies from the roofs of burning buildings;” where others foretold simple “plagues,” Uriah saw “bleeding eyes,” he saw “flesh peeling off bones,” he saw corpses piled on sidewalks in Times Square, “the sick and dying fighting over their bloody bones.”

The kid was good. A natural. There wasn’t a parade he couldn’ piss on, and his salary reflected it. From Wall Street to Main Street, everyone in the world hung on his every terrifying word.

And then, a couple of weeks ago, Uriah’s prophecies began to change. The other prophets mocked him, teased him, thought he was joking.

“Dude, what the fuck?” they asked at lunch. “You okay, Bruh?”

But Uriah knew what he saw.

Last night, he had seen it again, and he posted his vision to the company site. And now, eight hours later, he was facing Head Prophet Emmanuel.

“So tell me,” said Head Prophet Emmanuel, “about these… visions of yours.”

Uriah swallowed hard.

“Well,” said Uriah, “I mean, I… well, you know. I saw the future.”

“Mm-hmm. That is your job.”

“It is,” said Uriah.

“And tell me about this future.”

“Well, you see,” said Uriah. “it was… it was…”

“Yes?”

“It was… it was okay.”

“It was okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What was okay?”

“The, the future, Sir.”

Head Prophet Emmanuel laughed, a loud and booming laugh.

“Really!” he said. “That’s a new one! What do you mean, okay?”

“Well, I mean – it was, uh… fine,” said Uriah.

“Fine.”

“Not perfect,” he continued. “Not, uh, y’know, paradise or anything, heh heh. But it was… okay. I’m not saying it’s gonna be great, of course! I’m not crazy!”

“Of course not.”

“But generally speaking, you know, I mean, that is to say, on the whole, - things are going to be, you know. Just kinda… okay.”

“Oh are they now?” asked Head Prophet Emmanuel. “Nobody will be killing?”

“Of course they will,” said Uriah.

“Ah!”

“I mean, some will be killing. You’re always gonna have a few killing, right? That’s, you know, that’s life. But most won’t be killing, no. Not like, you know, in the movies.”

“The movies.”

“Yeah,” said Uriah. “You know. Where they’re all, like… killing.”

“I see,” said Head Prophet Emmanuel, coming to Uriah, putting his strong arm around Uriah’s narrow shoulder and leading him to the window.

“And starving?” Head Prophet Emmanuel asked. “What about the starving, Uriah? Did you foresee anyone starving?”

“Some were starving, yes - it was awful.”

“Good, good…”

“But others were trying to feed them,” said Uriah. “The starving, I mean.”

“Were they?” Head Prophet Emmanuel said. “Interesting.”

They arrived at the window.

“Tell me, Uriah, in this vision of yours, what else were people doing?”

“Oh, you know – working, having families, falling in love…”

At this Head Prophet Emmanuel’s face darkened.

“Falling in love?” he roared. “Falling in love, are you shitting me, kid?”

“I… I know what I saw!” Uriah replied, his voice weak.

Head Prophet Emmanuel threw open the window. The wind roared in, loud and cold, blowing all the papers from his desk, turning the office in a tempest.

“Do you know what business we’re in?” he bellowed, his face inches from Uriah’s. “Do you?”

He pushed Uriah to the open window; Uriah grabbed at the frame for dear life. He screamed for help, but none of the pedestrians seventy stories below could hear him.

“Do you know what would happen if I let go?” Head Prophet Emmaunel asked. “Come on, you’re a prophet, Uriah, what would happen?”

“I would die!”

“Well, yes,” said Emmanuel calmly, “that was easy, Uriah, of course you would die, duh. But that’s not what I meant. What I meant was this: people would be thrilled. It would make their day! “My God,” they would exclaim, “people are jumping from buildings! It’s the economy! It’s AI! It’s a conspiracy!” They would shake their heads, gnash their teeth. “What’s become of this awful world,” they would lament. “Is this the world we are leaving for our children, is this the American Dream?” You’d be dead, Uriah, but they would feel alive! THAT’S the business we’re in. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” shouted Uriah, “yes, please, pull me back in!”

Head Prophet Emmanuel pulled Uriah back inside, and slammed the window shut. He ordered Uriah to collect the papers that had been scattered around the office, then walked him to the office door. There he turned and pointed to the large portrait of Moses that hung behind his desk.

“And Moses stretched out his hand toward the sky,” Head Prophet Emmanuel quoted, “and total darkness covered all Egypt for three days.” You understand?”

“Yes,” said Uriah.

“Good,” said Emmanuel.

He patted Uriah on his back, hard, and shoved him out the door.

“I expect bad things from you, kiddo,” Emmanuel said with a smile. “Terrible things!”

Uriah turned, and the Head Prophet’s door closed heavily behind him.

The young prphet walked down the hallway, hands in his pockets, already writing in his mind descriptions of the fiery doomsdays that paid the bills.

But he knew what he had seen.

He knew what he had seen.

Yours in the fetal position,

S.

illustrations by orli auslander