Young Writers Society

So let’s say it’s 2022 without the death plague in Parma, Ohio. People are outside as if there was never Covid. People don’t have to wear paper bags on their faces as if there was never Covid. People can go to work and school as if there was no Covid. People don’t oversubscribe to door dash as if there was never Covid. You get the idea. No apocalyptic flu of mass depopulation to be found anywhere.

Parma has some nice suburbs. Clean streets, what astoundingly trendy and innovative plazas in the center. There’s also the endless row of empty market houses priced at a crushing mortgage of at least 100,000 bucks even though the average yearly income is 50,000 at best. Who cares about all those uncultured swine who went to a vocation instead of getting a good old masters in criminal justice or business? It’s the climate of progress after all.

Not to mention it’s 88 degrees outside in April. Now let’s turn our attention to the local high school in these suburbs. Looming concrete buildings, searing hot quad, giant football field that could accommodate like thirty-five classrooms without even being overcrowded, gold spray painted cougar statue that costs five thousand bucks in renovations, seems about right. Best years of your life in the chicken coop.

Then there’s that dead area by the forest that was all torn up from years of local regulation. Cool, quiet, and secluded. Some may even say haunting. Either way, it’s the only refuge from the bustling quad under the oppressive sun. You must know that some people like a break from the congealed mass of ironic nonconformists that stick to each other like aerosol glue. Not so diverse student population and all that.

Here it’s much different. Otherwise desolate. Otherwise tranquil. Quite chill as a matter of fact. Now here lies the infamous triumvirate that reign here in their notorious solitude. It took at least 17 beefs with random people before they could finally procure their own turf.

There the three of them were sitting legs crossed out in the relieving shade sporting black trench coats and deeply immersed in the darkness. One of them had his trusty trilby as always. Not a word, no spark of conversation. Not a sound to be heard but the faint scrawling of a pencil and the clicking of mini game controls. Focused, sullen, yet pensive. Alone in thought. The passion for profound exploit runs deep even if it’s not obvious. As a whole though, they’re really not well liked. I mean as in not at all.

There they are isolated by each other’s company yet in inexplicable lasting notoriety. They just mind their own business on their playlists with their game consoles and notebooks overflowing with doodled schematics and musings. They never even instigated provocation firsthand yet they are always on the administration risk record as far as their “teachers” are concerned anyway. There’s always more room for the direction of senseless contempt however. They are widely regarded by the kids as violent, useless, undead freaks, the beta edgelords, retarded or anything of the sort anyway.

Nothing the drones ever thought was worth considering in the long run. It is here that they know the truth, and the truth tends to be obscured. All it took nowadays for the normie drones was generic brand frames and you were certified original and smart. They had been born into these deserted times, a banal world that lacked any real promise. Yet instigated within these guys was a sense of refuge. There was potential.

Taking refuge from a lurid and hopeless social environment they retired online to obscure chat forums since a young age. It was there that they logged onto a group chat at the tender age of seven and eight years old and would acquaint with each other by coincidence. Common purpose could be reiterated. So they took to the cause right away and became inseparable in those first years in 2014. How precious isn’t it? Seriously though no homo.

Each of them had been called “poopheads”, and “meanies” at some point by their bland and standardly moronic mormon peers all through elementary school for their unimposing stature and characteristic brown hair. And so they responded with the title of their newly formed aggregation much to the suddenly evoked fear of their spoiled and spineless classmates.

They were the Shitheadz. The triumvirate that retained the last vestige of higher purpose in a desolate world. The first, the proud, and the eternal. Now let’s go through a formal introduction to each of them one by one.

Here by the lower right end was seated the fledgling Jason in his black trenchcoat, titled as the honorific Shooter. Called that way because of his faithful devotion to Counter Strike Global Offensive, GTA, and Valorant. Not an actual shooter mind you, as in not an actual school shooter. I’m talking to you random paranoid Karen who’s reading this and about to virtue signal on her dusty old facebook account. He was thin but fast on his feet with sloping brown hair and somber blue eyes.

Fifteen years of age and last name Gallagher, his clinging Irish heritage ensured that the celtic goddess Morrigan of war and prophecy hath summoned him to revive a forsaken age of honour. The problem was that he just didn’t know it yet. For now this would have to wait and he would stick to his pronounced instinct for navigating the precarious streets of Cleveland, tracking, PS4, and hunting by his uncle’s house. A life to embody the Brooklyn Mafia rather than just emulate still seemed like a distant dream. He loathed school with the most passionate indifference the most out of the other Shitheadz, but such tapered zeal would have to wait as Satanist patiently instructed.

Speaking of which we now turn our attention to the undisputed leader of their congregation. There in the long black jacket with a few patches here and there. Sitting in the sharp top of the corner taking in his environment was Gregori Sokolov, better known by his well established title of Satanist. Those long years of penetrating depression had been hard on a lad of sixteen, but such brooding had made him who he was. Now he was tall and thin with sunken eyes, chest-long dark hair and an emerging goatee of honour. Composed, rational, morose and soundless in his demeanor he was their esteemed leader and mentor. His birthdate here and I kid you not is June 6th 2006. So the beast lies in his image.

It was hard at first, but now he felt a sense of promise. He had only these faint apparitions every so often of a long lost time. It is said that he is the prophesized one by the khlysty. “Don’t worry about your loss now.” They seemed to say. “The time will come, but first before redemption there is the test of abstinence.” Something must have necessitated his presence here after all. From the age of ten he turned to become a committed convert to the teachings of Anton Lavey, hence his title of honour. No need to turn his back on the esoterics yet, he was just getting started. No valid subject of knowledge was too deep for him to study. Even the little known proofs in combinatorics say that what seems to be random probability always carries an intention, a purposeful design. Otherwise, the attainment of wisdom demanded patience. Self enforced struggle demands self restraint and solitude. Once again, it was a duty, an obligation. It was the art of life.

Down here we see Sperg also in his black trenchcoat. Stout and unshaven brandishing his trilby, here was his neckbeard that was just growing in as well much to his smug satisfaction. A distant descendant of jewish small business owner Amir Holzman who parted from the rest of his village in Czechoslovakia to New York those many years ago. Amir had struck it rich on wall street, and now Sperg was destined to be even more ruthlessly efficient one day. He just didn’t know it yet. For now his destiny was selling expansion packs of fortnite mods and coding up protocols to get past stringent network security. Sitting there in cynical self pity exhausted and in critical condition due to long term abstinence from EVE Online and nesquik flavored 2 percent fat milk mixed with instant coffee. He was seated on the lower left hand side, which could only mean one thing. Today was his day. Seriously though, dat trilby.

Then there’s the faintish sigil of the occult leviathan cross by the fence. You know the double cross right on top of an infinity symbol? You get the idea. Satanist specially picked it out to represent their unwavering pact to exalted freedom among themselves since those precious first moments on the discord server. The altar that represented the last beacon of hope in the ironically correct millennial dystopia. They barely managed to get it away from the secret police, uh, I mean Shelley the ruthless campus tracker. It served as a token of their cause for the true essence of individualism in an age of decadent consumption.

Unconventional? Apparently. Cynical but purposeful? Surely. Savage when they needed to be? Oh yes, as we shall see.

The vibes here were fine. The pace here was set as far as the dark corner was concerned. But trouble was afoot, for you see there’s this pretty uninteresting but exceptionally popular kid that is usually just by the center of the quad named Michael Chang. Just a tall popular asian sophomore who is intensely confident and cocky, always proclaiming his “right for protection” at random circumstances. He’s a straight A student for the pastors of the inquisition, uh, I mean teachers so I guess that automatically counts him as a “model citizen”. Another tool, we get it. He’s also on varsity basketball. Oh whatever. He’s the most active and permanent member on the student council, the exact guy who passed a motion to get rid of the last power outlets by the exterior of the campus. Oh that was the final straw, and now he was the sworn nemesis of the Shitheadz.

It usually wasn’t worth it to take his shit though, not with the huge crowd of wet fangirls and obnoxious chumps behind him mindlessly applauding his every comment. Some people use the number of their voters to substitute for the quality of what they actually proclaim don’t you know. “Vote for style!”, “Michael for the president!”, “Enemies just need to Chang for the better!” were all kinds of rudimentary campaign slogans that his private fan club latched onto.

This time it was different however. His parents just took him with an exclusive membership tp a Methodist church at the provincial edge of the suburbs to teach him “higher customs”. And now his supreme leader himself was coming to town even more high on his horse than usual. The stench of self righteousness and normative ethics penetrated through the air in an unmistakable reek.

Shooter shifted to one side with unease. Something didn’t feel right. He sniffed. Something smelled. He sniffed again with suspicion until he could make out that something was different. “Hey guys, do you smell that?” He remarked. “Smell what?” Sperg asked. “I already told you that I showered at least four nights in a row.”

“Not that.” Shooter sniffed again. “That.” “I think something nasty just crawled here.” Shooter clarified. Sperg nodded his head sideways in confusion. “No dude, I also already told you they don’t keep the trash here anymore.” Satanist broke out of his pensive rumination. “No, he’s right.” He paused to look sideways. “An age old enemy has just transgressed here from the endless oblivion.” Shooter looked back in bewildered horror. Sperg slipped his game console into his heavy coat. “But you don’t mean..”

“Oh yes.” They all stood up, eyes narrowed at the slowly approaching crowd of some twenty three random people. “Preppies.” He growled under his breath. He sat there scowling in still awareness. “The bastard of the void had just crossed the fence.” Satanist remarked. Sperg and Jason fumed in heavy anticipation. “Time to chang his attitude to the wall this time.” They approached the grazing herd rhetorical weapons ready and loaded.

“Let’s go here Michael!” Leslie whatever said to him. “Shine your bright light out to reach the world!” Michael was in an unusually smug mood today wearing a tie and holding a pamphlet with an extensive Hanzi translation of tedious passages while spouting off verses to his oversized fanbase. “You know if god reigns in heaven supreme so shall it be!” He gestured with his right arm. “That’s right!” Guy number five said in the background. “The word of our lord is our justice, and we live off of his word!” “And since I am preaching here, it only means that I am the stronger!” He vaunted on and on.

“We love you Michael!” “Now preach to your highest!” A girl shrieked in excitement. “Our land is the land of the free!” Michael recited with assurance. “Our land is where the free rest their names, and the privileged few live in perfect refinement!” “I’m talking about myself of course.” All of the surrounding students stood there mesmerized by his words. “But now it occurs to me, if God is one of us then why can’t it be me?” “Why can’t it be anyone one of us who knows the truth?” “Because the thing is, that you and I don’t know, is that there is only one right.” “And that is the spirit of obedience and love to our heavenly lord!” “Divine grace prevails!” Michael’s tie was flitting in the wind to a small crowd shouting with approval. The mere sight of it could make any person of sound reason sick to his stomach.

“Aww, is it that time for the sheep slaughter already?!” Cackling voices echoed in the distance. Michael froze. “Who’s there!” He barked into the shadowy pit. “Did the janitor forget to unclog the toilet this time!?” “The more basic the better, but it still takes a heaving push to get all the release out just right!” An assertive voice yelled from the distance. Michael paused in dis-belief scanning the abyss. “Tell me where you are!” “You can’t fool me!” The dark smog remained elusive. “Come on,” “It can’t be that hard to aim it all at once straight into the bowl!” “You’re a big boy after all!” Michael darted his eyes back and forth in suspicion. “If you don’t come out right now there will be hell to pay!” He screamed in fright.

“Good enough, I’ll give you a pass on that one.” “Now fix your eyes on this.” Thick soled footsteps clasped the ground. A gloomy figure materialized out of the dense darkness. Satanist loomed out of the shadows with a tight countenance of determination. Shooter and Sperg followed to stand by the word of freedom and honour. This preppie cocksucker had to put out of his misery for once in his life. “Seems as though you’ve got some special guests with you.” “I don’t recall inviting you to dump your leftover manure all over our temple.” Satanist stood at guard. “How about you just make it simple enough this once and take the raving self praise elsewhere?’

“Oh would you look at that?” “The forever alone people just appeared out of nowhere as if by magic!” “I didn’t ask for that.” Michael cackled in his prideful tone.

Satanist nodded accordingly. “I guess not.” “This is the worst possible time for another one of your public fests Mr. Kim Sung.” The casual loner reprimanded him righteously. “Please take the sheeple feed somewhere else at least out of your own dignity.” He repeated himself.

Michael Chung cackled with shallow respite. “It was only for people who are important in life don’t you know.” The Satanist noted his comment. “Or lack thereof.” “So you think you’ve got some grasp of what it means to actually be worth a shit in the real world don’t you?” “Well me and my friends here are going to prove you wrong step by step.” Satanist motioned to his respectable allies.

Michael seemed undeterred. “You can’t just beat me up all by yourself, I have a whole army with me that helps me win in every popularity contest!” “It’s always the rights to protection and I’m still strong enough on my own.” “You know I play basketball for a living?” Michael exclaimed with firm confidence.

“I get it, the tie right there is to impress all of your boyfriends in the fanbase.” Satanist assured him. “Also, that poor ball doesn’t like you very much I get that.” Sperg added. “What’s your own air filled skull ever done to you anyway?”

“Ha ha, but you still can’t win!” Michael replied.

Satanist bowed his head, his eyebrows raised to complement a coy smile. “Nor do we care to.” “Yet ironically with the unwarranted shrieks leftover from your most recent skull rapture you have now conjured up the devil.” He paused to invoke examination to himself. “And so the devil wants to play a game.” “How about we compel you to retract from our sanctuary of self-respect, or we resort to an engagement using dialectics?”

Michael was confused at the initial proposal. “As in?” He asked. “What does that phrase that starts with the letter d even mean?”

Jason turned a searing glare at him. “It means it’s time to prove yourself, hotshot playground celebrity.” “Let’s hear why you are right this time.” Michael laughed. “But I always am, I’m at the top of every class!” Satanist looked at him coldly. “He means with logic.” “As in you actually have to develop an argument with details and facts.” Sperg stepped in for confirmation. “That’s right, before you go on your way to try to teach divine perfection somewhere else, first we want to hear some coherent reasoning that supports your stance.” “Show how about it?”

Michael smiled smugly. “Why should I care?” He asked with mockery. “You don’t have to.” The elder of the trio responded patiently. “But by the time you are done making fun of yourself over here, we come away knowing that you were never saying anything that should be taken seriously.” “I thought you said you were smart from all that schooling, so now here comes the perfect time to prove it.” “We’re just freaky edge-lords after all, can’t be that hard.” He affirmed.

Michael felt compelled with interest now. “What’s it called then?” “Some kind of word fight?” Sperg stepped forward for confirmation. “We hereby challenge Michael Chang the righteous to a debate of enough rigor and corresponding logic to last a lifetime!” “There will be four sessions between the three of us against the infallible Michael Chang himself, we will ask you questions and you will answer accordingly.” “In between each session there will be five minutes for deliberation to recover and formulate your reasoning further, after that we come back to proving our positions correct.” Sperg rehearsed the classic arrangement of the formal subreddits where usually only the most cultivated wordsmiths met for advanced dialectics.

“Oh, so you want to debate an honor rolls student then?” Michael crossed his arms. “That’s right.” Satanist gave it to him with fortitude. “Let’s hear how right you are this one last time.” “We’re ready when you are, so I guess I’ll get us started off.” He would put forth his premise. “First question is, how do you know a god with impeccable judgement exists at all?”

Michael stood silent with certainty. He already read this question by heart in his month long private course. “Because the lord thy god is first and foremost.” “We know that his will exists for sure because every action causes a reaction, and the bible explains how he created the world from the very beginning.” “If god is the action, then everything else follows.” “If it can all be found at one common source that he is, then that takes care of everything.”

Satanist eyed him with curious respite. His suspicions were confirmed. This guy was a full blown creationist fucktard. “I see then.” “Every conceivable effect has one common source.” He repeated. “In that case how do you account for immanent variance?” “How do you account for the many shapes and the distinct presentations of reality overall, that god seems to have created?” Satanist went on with his explanation. “Very few things in this world are the exact same down to the final detail.” One of Michael’s chumps looked baffled. The ring leader who stood in opposition found the question interesting enough. “Maybe I have an answer to that, could you please clarify?”

Sperg was poised ready to answer. “Think of it this way.” “If you have assigned to a supreme being the role of a universal element, then how does it directly manifest the particular pieces?” “A better way to say it is, notice how everything has different properties.” “For example, a paper has a different texture to a metal bar.” “A glass of water is fluid held in a solid container.” “So on and so forth.” Sperg gave his examples one by one. “Some of these things are so different they cannot be compared at all.” “Molten lava and a random tree have almost nothing in common except that they are made of matter.” “Otherwise one of those things burns automatically in contact with the other.” He carried on with his explanation.

Michael turned his head slightly. This was an interesting point. “So everything that exists is made of something?” He replied. “Remember that the bible says that the earth was dark and without form.” “But he always knows the truth, which means that it shows up in an effect.” “Something can exist that has no matter like empty space away from earth.” The popular sophomore attempted to elaborate. “But by the time that his influence comes in, we see that it comes to life.”

Jason felt that he had heard this before from the times he was forced to sit through church much to his aversion. It was too easy to proclaim the existence of god before anything else. The problem was that it didn’t make any sense that an ultimate creator relied entirely on his own existence for his own power and yet just appeared out of nowhere. Yes, it was time to refute this grave incalculation with blunt truth. “Keep in mind that even in god’s word over there that nobody actually created god, nobody intended it to happen.” “The bible claims that he just was created spontaneously.” “The thing is that as you said for every action there is a reaction.” “What’s more, this type of cause and effect has to go for everything otherwise we have no idea where it came from.” “God is someone who exists everywhere right?”

“He is immortal.” Michael tried to correct him. “Yeah, right.” Jason went on. “What we still say, is that he has the power to just conceive random shit out of nowhere.” “So he has the power to create anything and everything, then it’s pretty much a good enough reason for thinking that he was the force that created himself.” “He created himself first and all.” Michael could follow so far. “So then you might come to this idea at some point then.” Jason patiently explained. “If god is so powerful without fail and can just do anything plus create men in his image, then why doesn’t he create other godlike beings using this same power of creation?”

The widely respected student stood in a state of potent shock. “Um, well, then why would he do that?” Jason delivered his reprise. “Divide the work and make it easier.” “Take a break from all of the heavy lifting needed to press together giant suns and move planets at different times.” The cheerleader considered this statement with a troubling possibility. “Yeah, I guess he would.” “I guess he would.” He remarked. “But you know what?” “It does occur to me.” Michael asserted suddenly. “Heaven and the lord are in place now like they always were, because they are immortal.” “Nothing can harm him because he always was available.” He motioned his hands with some thought. “Which of course means that he can always enact something without anyone else’s decision.” He concluded.

Sperg rubbed his chin to consider the matter further. “Then why bother at all?” He started. “Sure he created the earth, angels and human beings as the bible seems to explain.” “So then he presides as some kind of unequivocal power.” “Nothing can challenge him, nothing can outdo him and no one can match his influence.” The wordsmith wielding his judgement emphasized. “As you say, we know for sure that his being and everything he creates is not only perfect but that it is unassailable.” “But now, why would he be compelled enough to create such an extensive material universe that is supposedly infinite where all kinds of shit could be lurking in it?”

“Why let something exist that just cannot be compared in any degree to his own perfection?” “For example, let’s not forget how he concieved to design hell in all of it’s inglorious terror says the first book.” “As a result of his own conscious will of creation, these evil entities being the designated cause of all evil in the world conduct themselves as a recurring threat to his power.” “The same power that you repeated over and over can’t be challenged.” Sperg had earned an edge here as he explained all of the loose ends with unmistakable consistency. “So how do you care to explain it up to here?”

Michael started to recognize his own exposed flaw. “Yeah, well..” He started on his own train of thought again. “Because god has a plan.” “God always has a plan.” “At least admit that there’s some kind of methodinvolved.” “Because if there wasn’t, we wouldn't even exist.” “He has his own line of reasoning, so it’s not for me to question.”

Satanist crossed his arms and nodded his head sideways accordingly. He knew that this resort to mentioning divine providence would happen sooner or later. “A plan?” “Keep in mind that so far there is no formal evidence that says he exists.” “Nothing outside of the bible.” “There’s not even evidence of the parting sea for example, but that much water is bound to leave a measurable effect.” The young muser emphasized. “This means that we do not have any confirmation of the holy ghost carrying out tangible influence outside of the records of scripture.” “In that case, the extent that we know about what the existence of divine intelligence is or even the word of god is will never exist as anything beyond one mode of thought.” “Or just revelation for that matter.”

Michael was slowly growing impatient. “So what evidence do you need?” “What counter-evidence do you need that I don’t already have?” He sneered while throwing up his four page pamphlet. “But you know what?” “Here it is since you asked fifty times already.” He turned to page one and read the last passage there in an attempt to pull out something quick. “God is love, and god is good grace, but it has to come in the form of beauty, otherwise his crafted design does not work out the details in his own pure form!” He shut the thin plastered page in disappointed anger.

“So do you get it now?” “That because God loves everything we do, almost everything, that we can embrace his works even if we don’t understand ourselves how they manifest?” Michael extended his question further. “Maybe it doesn’t matter at all!” “Maybe the first principle is needed to make it seem like there was never anything to begin with, but in fact there is!” “God is prevalent on his own command, and because he is everywhere it doesn’t need to be taken any further!” He stopped just short of his next deduction. He was panting slightly. “All right, okay.” He looked at the triumvirate. “Do you follow so far?”

Sperg just shook his head in tightly hidden disappointment. Satanist takes a second to inhale with a breath of relief. The atmosphere seemed to be opening up to a compromise in favor of a fair stance by the minute. “I have to say that this is redundant.” The long haired one explained. “Like really unsteady even as something to just carry as an assumption, but we’ll get to that.” He looked to the ground for a minute. “Say if there isn’t an immaterial agent that counts as purposeful design,” He started. “Which we can’t know for sure because it exists beyond our ability to see it, then if we decide that it alone constitutes what we take for reality how do we know that anything exists at all?”

Michael was stunned. He looked first at the speakers in front of him, then to the side and then to the crowd behind him. One of the tall guys in the crowd shrugged casually waiting for an answer. He gathered himself together. “Okay, fine!” “But you know what?” “I just need a break for five minutes.” He said looking at Sperg. “Just let me use my brain here for a second, there’s got to be something that can work to become a fact!” He turns around in dismay.

“Interlude granted!” Sperg declared with formality. Michael turned around to talk to his crowd, while the triumvirate gathered themselves together. Satanist just shook his head from the abundant gathering of random nonsense that he had received so far. “Let me just put it here straight.” He briefly looked back at Michael gesturing his confusion towards his fans. “We don’t have to worry much about it going much further than here.” “He’s been going around the same point again and again, never applying his examples to different possibilities even once.” He smirked in amusement. “But he still can’t explain himself.” Jason snickered to himself while Sperg rubbed his chin in careful analysis.

“You see, he is a paragon example of a very technical term that we here call edumacated.” Sperg continued. “As in not really putting what he says into any kind of context, but just puffing his chest as if to make a point.” Jason stood silent. “Seriously though.” He added on. “Not one thing that counts as common sense.” “All it takes is the most expected possible white guy’s name attached to the most typical possible asian last name and you get the ultimate hot shit preppie.”

“Now dude, let’s go over our politically correct customs one more time.” “Wouldn’t want to start the trigger fest all over again.” Satanist replied. Sperg breathed out a heavy sigh. “Repetition independent of deduction just doesn’t work in the long run.” The unshaven one pronounced. “If anything I can get this to be obvious enough to where it just won’t work any further.” “Not even if he alludes to divine purpose with the same kind of rhetorical extraction.” “The one thing he won’t want to understand is how logic applies on it’s own, but once it is presented to him he manages to figure out that something may be wrong.” Satanist nodded his head in resounding agreement. “Then once he knows for sure how it is blocked on all possible corners with a fully completed refutation, he just can’t go further.” Sperg continued. Shooter lifted a smile to his comrade to approve his fruitful consideration.

“In that case my man, why don’t we have you take the reins from here?” Jason responded to him. “We’ll tell you when to pull off a complete blockage to the fullest degree, and then he’ll finally see for himself how using obvious tactics to get applause in the exact same way will just work against him.” Sperg nodded in agreement to his close friend’s notion. “Then let’s just get on with it.” “He’s just present somewhere that just doesn't make any sense for him by now.” Sperg lowered his head with a smile. “Popularity contests can go out of bounds when they’re not careful.” Satanist received this message with eager consensus. “I can sense the personal attacks coming off strong, I just might indulge him on this one.” “I’ll be the one to start him off in this direction.”

Michael was just recollecting himself from a critical loss of prestige. Maybe the fact of the matter is that these suggestions were just excuses this whole time. Michael’s background audience attempted to offer him quick comebacks, some to put off a quick shock and some to just launch confusing ridicule. However, the expectation for him had now changed. Not everything he was saying was right all the time, sometimes it didn’t work to the same effect. “So what do I do now?” He lamented to his crowd. “Maybe take on some of their style and use it against them!” A guy in shorts suggested to Michael. “Could actually have some of the same effect.” Michael shook his head and grimaced in loathing. “No!” He roared. “No I will not!” “I will not sink down to their level!” He shouted shifting his direction to the standing trio in front of him.

“You just need to know your place!” He pointed his finger at the shitheadz. “Know that I am the leader after all because I’m still the most relevant kid, and it doesn’t matter if I am incorrect just once!” Michael asserted holding up his finger for demonstration. “Just once!” “If you don’t have something smart to say then just don’t bother to speak before I do!” “You just don’t matter!” Michael went on trying to reprimand them.

Gregori lowered his gaze with a queer smile. The silence only grew stronger now even as his nemesis was sneering. “So when was the last time you were smart?” He asked. “As in right now?” “Name me the one last thing that you said that made sense.” “One thing!” Number six asked firmly. “Because at this point, you’ve just been trying to take a really inadequate detour from every question we gave by trying to confirm god in his own right.” The young man continued. “So then what is god anyway and where is this confirmation apart from him?” “Is it somewhere that has a source that we can know to be true through exposure apart from what any one person can just say, or does it have it’s own reality to begin with?” Satanist affirmed himself. “Where is this first point that we can be sure of?”

Michael clenched his fists and shook his head to the side in anger. He hesitated to respond. Why did it matter what anyone else thought anyway? He was his own person to be right and that was that. What more proof did anyone need? He stepped forward crossing his arms in vexed anger. “Okay then, you got me there.” “I admit, I don’t know any better.” “But you know what, that's what’s for sure right there.” “I am god!” “I am the one who first speaks!” “I am the first one who ever knew the truth because as it just so happens I am perfect and will always be right!” “I am our lord and savior!” He exclaimed this in disgruntled fear as he could almost feel a poignant and oppressive grip steadily encroaching by his right leg. “If I could be appreciated just once then I am appreciated forever!” He could have sworn now that he felt a steady murmur beneath his feet. “I am here to exact vengeance on those who just cannot believe in fair justice and unity, and now I will not let you live!” He said striking anger against the people who had suddenly become serious opponents on the matter.

Much to the shock of his docile crowd Michael had just resorted to pronouncing open threats. These guys really were just people after all, they didn’t say anything wrong. The bystanders nodded their heads with futility. “I have to say Michael that I am disappointed.” One regular orbiter explained. “You can’t just threaten people who disagree with you.” Michael groaned in suppressed contempt. “Hey they started it!” He said, wagging his finger with forceful contempt at the shitheadz. “You don’t know how to fight for real and so are just attacking me with logic!” “It’s unfair!” He shouted.

“Remind me what’s unfair.” Satanist replied. “We’ve had to put up with your ranting so far, not to mention you always stop by here with a crowd whenever you feel like it even though we asked you at least fifteen times to stop by now.” “After that you always proceeded to pick on us.” A girl in the crowd agreed. “We won’t come here anymore now!” She assured him with approved realization. “What’s more, what you said to us does actually count as an overt threat that could be reported.” He carried on explaining. “Of course we’ll get to that.” “But for now, you always seem to just have to be told off by deliberate force.” “Logic is not an obvious threat in and of itself, but when you go around trying to take over other people’s space we now tried to convince you in person to just take it away from us.” “Then we came to this subject.” “Then you attacked us.” Satanist concluded his answer.

Michael conjured a hollow grin with his hands by his hips. “Are you sure you’re not just jealous?” He asked.

Satanist crossed his arms and lifted his left eyebrow in mild amusion. “Are we sure?” “Why would we be?” “So far you’ve just been extracting out your own decomposed reasoning that makes its way to your breath.” “In fact I can smell it all the way from here while you talk.” He said while wifting at his nose in a gesture of condoned irritation. “Come on now man, we just didn’t care to hear it this whole time.” “Let the words do the talking.”

Shooter just carried himself with grave annoyance at these inane remarks from this “popular” kid. “But still, are you sure you’re not just jealous?” “Answer me this one time!” Michael demanded.

This was it now. Sperg felt his time was near. He stepped a foot forward between the wide gap. “Only if you say so!” He exclaimed. “Just if you say so!” He continued. “Because let’s not forget how the individual should always be held accountable for what he says.” “In fact, you were the one who openly asserted this in front of everyone for the last several minutes, how your opinion only ever comes from you first!”

The Satanist smiled with reassurance. He turned to his close friend. “Okay Sperg.” “Now there’s your time to shine.” Sperg rose and cracked his neck sideways from reading up on The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins several nights in a row. Years of intensified keyboard warfare and mortal kombat multiplayer had prepared him for this dialectic climax. Now he was ready. He stepped a few paces forward just to make sure his point could be heard a little bit better. “Whether or not we consider your opinion to coincide with our personal inclinations for taste is beside the point.” He gestured with his left hand. “We asked for your judgment on the matters to be discussed, yet so far you’ve only been able to make vague references to your own stature in an attempt to prove us wrong.”

Michael felt gripped by a strange spell of uneasy sorrow now. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong. “But what does this have to do with anything?” He lamented. Sperg gestured his left hand forward in response. “Exactly!” He confirmed that notion. “It’s exactly that, it’s irrelevant!” “As it turns out logic may not necessarily be of concise origin from the person himself without analysis that happened before, but the facts are derived only from the application!” The pronounced one continued. “Because of this, it’s not worth becoming the only source of your own justification even when you don’t want to be wrong no matter what!” “So when you are using one person or the other to declare the basis of your own evidence, you are in fact committing a fallacy.”

“Fallacy?” Michael inquired. “That’s right, that fallacy right there is known as ad hominem.” Sperg explained. “But forget about the word, the point is that the individual needs to be able to supply a varying degree of evidence to be able to explain his argument better.” “The more his line of thinking can be sufficiently applied to different objects or situations, the more complete it gets overall.” He continued. “Otherwise…” Sperg tilted his head. “The only alternative that seems to use verification from the exact same place over and over is called confirmation bias with a b.s.”

Michael widened his eyes in shock. “So what’s that called then?” He asked meekly. “Bias as in b.s.” “Bullshit bias.” Explained Sperg with his playful mannerisms. “Just because you can find a way to use the same opinion again and again expecting a better effect each time does not mean that you account for all the details.” “In fact it doesn’t even make it more convincing in the long run.” Michael rolled his eyes and clutched his head shaking it in denial. “It is up to you first and foremost to support your beliefs.” “Different facts can always be used so long as they can be put by the side of what you say effectively.” Sperg elaborated.

“So we know, the individual person may be met with a lot of facts and evidence but it is up to him to make sense first by using his own judgement to discern for relevance when encountering them.” “It’s his beliefs after all, even though some may work and others may not be as solid.” “Either way they can always be prepared to be included in an argument in favour of a legitimate reason in mind.” He continued to explain. “If he can use any system of rationale to allow it to become valid in some way then he has already made his own stance available using some kind of logic.” “Whether or not this can be confirmed in real life later on remains to be seen.” “The trick is that more substantial proof is to be used to take the place of inferior logic with consistent accuracy, so facts are important for this purpose.” Sperg gestured his hands this way and that. “The more he can do this using the power of his own judgment, the more his beliefs will count for truth in the end.”

“So why is the person on his own responsible for his line of thinking?” Michael sneered in aggravation.

Sperg delivered his point in it’s finality. “Because as we all now know, the capacity for personal judgment is retained first and foremost by the individual!” “Even though any one person himself will not necessarily know the truth right away, he assumes the ability to find out a way that it can make sense for himself so that we can know how it should be tested for accuracy thereafter!” “That is how we find truth!” Sperg announced to a silenced crowd. There it was. Michael gasped in disbelief. He looked back to his glancing body of followers, and then back at the finished orator in front of him. “Ohhh..” A member of his crowd went on. “Tssss… he said it right there.” Sperg stood a good distance in front of Michael in his firm conviction.

The preacher with his pamphlet just gave up trying to say anything else. He could not believe it. It was just not real. Now this time he couldn’t put his opinion into words in a way that made sense. He had to admit that it was just no use. “Fine!” “Okay, I was wrong!” “That can happen sometimes!” He exclaimed. “But you know what?” He grabbed his booklet and started ripping it to shreds. “I give up, I don’t care about this anymore!” He exclaimed looking at the paged brochure. “It just doesn’t matter.” He pulled at the loosened pages in aggravation and threw it on the ground. “It’s not the end though!” He yelled at the triumvirate. “I’ll find something that makes sense and when I do, we’ll see if it matters the next time!” Michael threw up his hands in defeat and just turned around back to the center of campus with his crowd of provoked suspicion trailing behind him. The dismayed leader looked back halfway down the road straight into the direction of Sperg.

Sperg tipped his trilby with a customary glance of ownage back towards the leader’s direction. Next time try to provoke our anger with questions worth considering. His toothy grin of smug satisfaction seemed to say. Michael growled to himself sorely and then just turned the other way.

“There goes the style of Mr. Edumucated on his way to reclaim his fan base elsewhere.” Jason remarked. “What a load of crap.”

Satanist turned to commend his comrade. “Well now Sperg, let’s make it official.” “You’ve finally earned the rank of master debater.” Satanist said beaming with pride. Sperg stood in disbelief. “What?” “I, I finally earned it?” The title of third rate honours he had been working hard for so long couldn't possibly be his now. “Pretty airtight.” Shooter nodded in agreement. “That’s right Sperg.” He told him in approving reassurance. “You have proven yourself worthy, and now you’re the master debater after all those years.”

“As in not just the masturbator?” “As in someone who can actually refute overpoweringly stupid arguements with style?” The endowed one asked with resounding satisfaction. “Cogent, well founded, and penetrating through all of the bullshit.” Satanist gave out his formal review with consensus. “You’ve truly earned it Sperg, well done.” “We have reclaimed our flooring of this place thanks to your help.” Shooter patted his back with approval. “That preppy hotshot and his spontaneous power trips will be saved for another day.” “Fuck that guy and all of his horse shit.” Jason affirmed to his comrade.

They were right, for now the ruthless villain Michael Chang had been slain. Sperg felt content to himself, he had done his job well and now he earned it. He would treat himself to an overnight marathon of EVE Online plus gallons of nesquik flavored instant coffee and not give a second fuck about it. It truly was his day after all.

Tribute bibliography from research because I don’t copyright infringe memes and all that:

Hat trick:

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Sperg’s triumph as the Master Debater:

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