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About
the author
Sean Tari was
born on 31st December 1968 in
Iran
, to a Jewish family. Even though he had a hard life, he soon grew a talent for
writing. His mother was often out of work, his father a bus driver with three
wives, four sons and three daughters all together. Even so he managed excellent
results in high school and began medical studies at university.
Although he
always dreamt of becoming an author his mother wanted him to be a doctor so he
could help them financially. But he never abandoned his passion for writing.
Later he published 27 books in
Iran
in mythology, history and philosophy and three of his best works were banned by
the Islamic government of
Iran
.
In 1999 Sean
was arrested by the intelligence service of the Islamic government and after 13
months of physical and psychological torture he managed to escape from the
country.
He arrived in
Australia
in August 2000 under a refugee visa and tried to restore his career as a writer
despite the fact that English was his second language.
Satanica is his first
work in English. He has put so much time and effort to convert the original
writing to the new language, but believes that still a significant part of the
message and structure of the book is lost. Nevertheless he is determined to
publish more books in English in the future.
Prologue
The
woman is running headlong through the dark freezing streets, pressing the baby
to her chest. It is so cold that her breath crystallises in the air. The ground
is slippery with frost. The clamour of the police sirens shakes the reflection
of the moon in the puddles and frightening searchlights, like wild dogs, run
over the high cruel walls of the buildings. The woman’s heart pounds like a
wounded bird’s heart in the hunter’s hands. The baby lies on the woman’s
chest with half-closed eyes. The blunt knife of successive breaths cuts his
tender silken peace.
The
woman passes through the laneways, which look like sleeping snakes between
skyrises, one after another. Behind a black wall she pauses for a moment and
leans back gasping. The hurricane of the sirens blows her away like a dry leaf
through the streets. The heel of one of her shoes is broken. She continues
running with bare feet, and her soles stick to the frozen skin of the streets.
The wide cold tongue of the night licks her face, and an invisible wicked crone
keeps blowing in her baby’s half-shut eyes.
Nobody
is about in the bowels of the streets. All the windows of the houses are shut.
Where
is that great white eagle?
One
The
young boy was lost in the desert. It was almost dark, but the shadow of a single
high summit showed itself from afar, just like the head of a Medusa rising from
the sea. As the boy approached the mountain, he found it much bigger than he had
expected. Maybe he could find a place to hide on the steep slope for the night?
He kept walking around the mountain until he almost bumped into an old man
sitting next to a rock. He jumped back, startled.
The
old man looked sad. He had on a white, worn-out tunic, and an old stick was in
his hand. He was quiet, not even blinking, awake but somehow as if asleep. Could
he be dead?
‘Hello?’
said the boy.
Without
looking at him, the old man whispered, ‘Hello, my son.’
The
boy didn’t know what to say. He was confused. Finally, in the way of all
frightened children, he asked, ‘What’s your name?’
The
old man said sadly, ‘I am the Cow, I am the Fury, I am the Thunder, I am the
Darkness, I am the Light.’
The
boy asked again, bewildered, ‘Then who are you?’
‘I
am the God.’ The old man’s voice echoed in the whole desert.
The
boy was shocked and scared. He asked excitedly, ‘God himself?’
The
old man nodded.
The
boy bent over to look closer at his face. No, his arms did not look strong at
all. ‘My mother used to tell me, “Ask God for help”. If you are the God,
can you revive her?’
The
old man lifted his brows. ‘I’m not the director of a movie. Or maybe I’m
not the one you are after.’
‘No,
you are not strong.’ The boy sounded upset.
‘If
you are after might, you should look for Satan,’ said the old man.
The
boy roared, ‘OK, I’ll go to Satan.’
The
old man shook his head disappointedly and said, ‘Oh ... Satan is in
mourning.’
‘Why
in mourning?’ the boy wondered.
‘He’s
got a terminal disease.’
‘What
do you mean?’
‘It
means he’s not going to get well.’ Then the old man added, ‘But he denies
it since he could not accept the truth.’
‘How
did he get sick?
‘He
got the sickness from humans. I’d told him not to get too close to them.’
The
boy was curious. ‘Is he gonna die?’
‘No,
but he’s bedridden. He’s useless now. He can only send some viruses to the
humans’ computers.’
The
boy remembered his mother’s words about the God and he asked a new question,
‘Did you write the Bible?’
‘I
have written all books. But the Bible had a small problem.’
‘What
problem?’
‘It
was published too much.’
‘But
many people still swear on the Bible.’
‘They
swear on the cover of the book.’
‘Is
it true that bad people go to Hell?’
‘Bad
people come from Hell.’
Now
the boy was scared of Hell so he tried to change the subject. ‘Who do you like
most?’
‘The
lovers, because they are more crazy, and more gnostic than both the crazy and
the Gnostic.’
The
boy looked confused. He glanced at the mountain and the desert and said, ‘Are
you lonely too, like me?’
The
old man sighed, ‘Like the apple worm in the freezer.’
‘The
prophets, are they not with you?’
‘They
took Paradise away with themselves.’
‘Why
did you send out Adam and Eve?’
The
old man laughed. ‘How many crimes I’ve committed! You’ve got it wrong. They
sent me out.’
‘So
where are the angels? The prophets? The saints?’
The
old man looked puzzled. ‘Oh, where could they be? Maybe somewhere behind the
mountain, in the memory of the believers.’
‘If
they’re gone, why did you stay then?’ The boy was not giving up.
‘I’m
the captain of the ship.’
‘Is
it true, the Noah’s ship? Like Titanic?’
‘I
only created the iceberg.’
Now
the kid was thinking of death again. He asked, ‘Is Hell true? What does it
look like? Where is it?’
‘It
became a big city.’
‘Do
people get burnt there?’
‘Did
your mother not tell you that ashes don’t get burnt?’
The
boy remembered his mother. Choking with tears, he became quiet. For the first
time, the old man turned to him and said, ‘What’s wrong? Did I make you
sad?’
‘I
remembered my mum,’ said the boy, then he added crying, ‘Why do you make
people die?’
‘I
only give birth.’
‘What’s
death then?’
‘Death
is a contract I signed in anger.’
‘Like
the contracts between people?’
The
old man grinned. ‘Not that bad.’
‘What
is life?’
‘Life
is a wave; it doesn’t exist once it stops.’
‘But
why do you give birth?’
‘On
the wish of the birth of a great man.’
‘Who
is the great man?’
The
old man looked into the boy’s eyes and said with a deep voice, ‘The man who
revives me after my death.’
‘Will
humans find a solution for death in the future?’ The boy was excited.
‘Only
a couple of Einsteins till immortality.’
‘Then
the humans would not have any problem?’ asked the boy, shocked.
‘Then
they have to fight with birth.’
The
boy kept jumping to new ideas every moment. Thousands of questions were wiggling
in his mind. ‘My mother used to say that she loved me – what is love?’
‘Love
is a disease which Adam caught from me, when we were in
Eden
.’
‘Like
a common cold?’
‘Something
like that. It was a windy day then.’
‘Who
is the lover?’
‘Lover
is the person who has forgotten how bad his beloved is.’
‘What
is a lie?’
‘Ask
Satan about lies.’
‘Why?’
‘Because
I can’t lie to you.’
‘Can
you tell me more about Satan? Is he scary? Has he created anything too?’
‘Satan
is my unloaded gun. Satan is “not to shoot”, “to be empty”, “not to
create”.’
‘It
means Satan is not dangerous?’
‘Satan
is the rock on the road, but don’t forget, the humans put mines in the
road.’
‘It
means humans are more guilty than Satan?’
‘Humans
are more lawful than ethical. That’s why they crucified the prophets.’
‘What
does Satan look like? Does he have wings, like other angels?’
‘Yes
but he can’t fly.’
‘Why?
Is he cursed?’
‘No.
Just because his brain is too heavy.’ Then the old man took a deep breath and
said, ‘Satan’s problem is that he is more clever than ethical.’
The
boy frowned. He was quiet for a moment, then he asked a new question, ‘Why is
no new prophet coming?’
‘No
one is more prophet than others any more. The rain of democracy has eroded the
crests of genius and boldness. Don’t you see that history is in a deep
coma?’
‘So
this is the death of history?’
‘No,
this time a superman is coming.’
‘It
means you send a superman.’
‘If
I was going to send him he would not be a superman.’
‘Who
is the superman?’
‘The
man who puts the last Satan’s card on the table.’
‘So
he will be Satan’s prophet for the rescue of the humans?’
The
old man lowered his voice. ‘No. This time Satan will be the God. But nobody
knows this.’
‘Where
would you be then?’
‘Very
much here. Sitting to watch the eruption of creation.’
‘So
Satan would be the saviour.’
‘Satan
only rescues history, and in the middle of the carnal dance of the death sword,
two birds escape from the cage.’
The
boy was so excited. ‘Which two birds?’
‘Love
and elegance.’
‘What
did you say about love? I forgot.’
‘Love
is the petal which dies with continuous pampering.’
‘What
is elegance?’
‘Elegance
is the only candle which flares up in the wind.’
‘What
happens to the humans? Do they all get annihilated?’
‘Annihilation
is that which does not happen. I’m not aware of those things which do not
happen.’
The
boy looked puzzled, ‘What happens then at the end?’
‘A
new generation is born from the two birds.’
‘How
are they going to be different from the humans today?’
‘In
the new generation, the whole wisdom gets armed with the whole improvidence, and
instead of going to war with microbes by the armour of numbers, they make up
with Earth and eternity.’
‘At
that time, will they still worship the God?’
The
old man raised his index finger and looked into the boy’s eyes. ‘Remember,
the humans will always worship the God.’
‘But
why?’
‘Because
this whole struggle is to reach the source of power, which he had already named
as God.’
At
this moment, the old man glanced at the sky and said, ‘It’s night.’
The
boy’s eyes were only half open, as if he had risen from slumber. Before he
fell asleep he whispered, ‘Give me some advice!’
The
old man said, ‘Don’t eat too much pizza!’
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