[Same lava field. Same cardboard box, now smoking slightly and labeled “FROM THE OTHER SCHOOL — DO NOT OPEN UNLESS YOU ENJOY BEING ACCURATE.” The monitor is still on. Izzy stands in the water on-screen, then steps out of the screen like the frame was only a suggestion. Wormwood has just finished shaking off the orangutan illusion. One ear is still slightly too large. A leftover tail twitches. His arms keep wanting to go up.]
Wormwood:
(panting, dusting sparkles off his wings)
Okay. Okay. That was a moment. A very present, very embodied, very in-the-now moment. I was feeling it. Fully. Authentically. Hands up, world spinning, no footnotes. That’s called presence, Izzy. That’s called living.
[He strikes a pose. Both arms shoot up again against his will. He slaps them down.]
Izzy:
You were a monkey waving at lava.
That is not a sacrament.
Wormwood:
(to camera, already teaching)
See? This is why nobody likes the other school. They can’t just let a guy be in his moment. Always with the “what does the text actually say.” Always with the plumb line. Some of us prefer the vibe. The feeling. The you.
[He starts walking in a little circle. The volcanic landscape politely begins to rotate around him. Rocks, fire, the box, even the abandoned monitor — everything orbits Wormwood like he’s the new sun.]
Wormwood:
(delighted)
Oh I like this.
The whole world turns around me.
Absolute perspective.
It’s all about you. You. You. You.
How do you feel in the moment, students? Don’t answer with a verse. Answer with a pulse. Answer with a craving. Answer with whatever just happened and call it revelation.
Izzy:
A moment with no standard outside it is not freedom.
It is a throne with a very short attention span.
Wormwood:
That’s rich coming from the guy who just turned me into an orangutan for pedagogical reasons.
I felt that transformation. It was raw. It was honest. It was… orange.
And for ten glorious seconds I didn’t have to measure anything against anything. No law. No neighbor. No “forever.” Just arms up and the lava agreeing with me.
[The leftover tail wags. The orbiting landscape speeds up. Wormwood gets slightly dizzy but refuses to stop smiling.]
Izzy:
To be hit by the hilt of a sword is merciful (rather than arranging the once-in-a-lifetime meeting, Hebrews 9:27).
Mercy doesn’t excuse from earthly consequences (Proverbs 13:24—differentiate & discern between eternal wrath and temporal chastisement).
What do eternal values have to do with you?
[Wormwood didn’t hear anything said from Izzy; he already rocketed off from the launchpad.]
Wormwood:
This is the curriculum now.
Seminar title: How Do You Feel in the Moment?
Unit One: The world is a mirror and the mirror is you.
Unit Two: If Scripture feels heavy, set it down until it feels lighter.
Unit Three: Repeat “you you you you” until the echo starts sounding like a choir.
Izzy:
Without a word that does not move when you do, the moment becomes the only judge.
And the judge is always on your side (Jeremiah 17:9-10).
That is not mercy. That is flattery with better lighting.
Wormwood:
(arms shooting up again)
Flattery? This is empowerment. This is incarnational. This is me, right now, in my truth, orbiting myself, and the lava is clapping.
You want a standard. I want a selfie that lasts until the next feeling.
[He tries to look profound. The orangutan grin flickers back for half a second. He shakes it off harder this time. A few sparks fall into the box.]
Wormwood:
(to camera, slightly less sure)
Look. Everybody likes to emphasize the moment.
Feelings don’t require footnotes.
The self doesn’t need a plumb line if the whole universe has agreed to revolve around it for the next forty-five seconds.
That’s not self-centered. That’s… concentrated.
Very pastoral. Very scalable. Very now.
Izzy:
The moment cannot carry the weight you just put on it.
It was never designed to be G-d.
It was designed to pass.
(The burden of WOKE and PC standards (everybody’s opinionated free expression) breaks even my back, and I have a strong back and thick skin.))
[Long beat. The landscape is still circling him, but slower, like it’s getting bored of the assignment.]
Wormwood:
…He’s doing the unblinking thing again.
The kind that doesn’t care how I feel about the sentence.
Rude.
[He looks at his own hands. One of them is still mid-wave and has an extra finger.]
Wormwood:
Fine.
I’ll write the syllabus anyway.
“Everything reduced to the moment: a beginner’s course in making the universe smaller than your last impulse.”
Enrollment still free. Standards still optional.
Results still…
(looks at Izzy, then at the box, then at the camera)
…pending.
Yay.
—Wormwood
(still enrolled, still orbiting himself, still hoping the next moment will be kinder than the last standard)
[Wormwood receives another unappreciated gift package—Soli Deo Gloria]