The Oracle Year

by Charles Soule

He thought about good decisions, and bad decisions, and how hard it could be to tell them apart.

The fundamental truth to Leigh Shore was this—something she’d realized years back but could not seem to change, no matter the opportunities, long-term relationships, and overall happiness it denied her—nothing was less interesting to her than something she already had. And nothing was more interesting to her than something someone told her she could not have.

You’re stuck on this whole destiny thing, but there is no such thing as destiny. What happens, happens.

None of us are meant for anything, and none of us are meant for nothing. Life is chaos, but it’s also opportunity, risk, and how you manage them.

“Belief is a commodity. It can be packaged, bought and sold. It’s true of saint’s bones, and it’s true of my ministry.”

If those folks really believed God was up there judging them, they’d be better people. But you see how they are. They lie, they cheat. They’re brazen about it.”

just because the Oracle says things that are true, it does not mean that they matter. The world is as ugly as ever. I just don’t understand why he bothers at all. What is the point?”

Teachers developed any number of superpowers—the voice was one, but another, almost as important, was the read. The same batch of kids could be working quietly on two different days and appear identical to an outsider. But on one of those days, the serene pods of children scattered around their beanbags and desks and wedged into corners might be mere moments from an eruption into undisciplined chaos. Impossible to foresee, unless you had the power of the read—and any experienced teacher did. Knowing the moment to strike, to head off the tornado before it had the chance to develop into anything more than a few isolated wisps of curling wind.

Kids were so focused on the moment they were currently living that they barely understood that the future existed, beyond regularly scheduled events like Christmas, birthdays, and Halloween.

It was like trying to play chess in a pitch-dark room, where you had to determine your opponent’s moves by sense of smell alone. And you had a cold. And your opponent was God.

“The future doesn’t just belong to you. We all get our piece.”

“He told me that prophets usually get killed. People don’t like what God has to tell them, so they kill the messenger. Either that, or the prophet has to remove himself from society because he’s scared he’s gonna get killed, or because he just goes nuts from pressure. If you’re a prophet, your choices are either to get your head served up to some king on a platter, or you can become a hermit for the rest of your life. Sometimes both.”

Nothing’s impossible. Not one thing.”

“Dr. Staffman, listen to me. You aren’t a good person. You know it and I know it. You’re selfish and you’re cowardly. That’s all right. It’s not like you’re unique. Most people I’ve met are just like you.

All faith was fraud, to the good reverend.

He knew that charlatans had been taking advantage of humankind’s search for something higher than itself for thousands and thousands of years. But he’d always assumed it was an exceptional thing. Not the norm.

If Branson was a fraud, then he was a fraud. Everyone was a fraud.

give me a lever long enough and I’ll move the world.

He thought about faith, and whether it was ever anything other than a Hollywood back lot, a beautiful façade with absolutely nothing behind it.

Fate, destiny—they’re myths. We are the sum of our choices. Choose well.