Founded in the aftermath of the Great Weed Shortage of Acton, 2074
"And on an unremarkable Tuesday, somewhere in Acton, a zoot slipped. It rotated slowly toward the pavement. And EJ — who was nowhere near, who had not been called, who had simply been sitting — felt it. A pull in the chest. A knowledge without words. And before the thought had finished forming, he was gone. His hand was already open. The zoot landed in his palm. He placed it back. He returned. The witness stood in silence for a long time. Then passed the zoot. Because what else do you do."
✦ ✦ ✦ — The First Scroll of Alcon, Chapter IIIIn the year 2074, the streets of Acton ran dry in what would become known as the Great Weed Shortage. Tins were empty. The man at the shop shook his head. Despair fell upon the land. But even before the drought — before the people knew they needed saving — Ezekiel James Alcon, known to the faithful as EJ, had already been chosen.
EJ was blessed with a divine gift: within a 5km radius of wherever he stood, no zoot could fall and be lost. The moment a sacred item slipped from any set of fingers, EJ would feel it in his chest — a pull, a knowledge without words — and cease to be where he was. He would teleport instantly to catch it, mid-conversation, mid-sleep, mid-anything. He would place it back in the hands of the faithful without a word. And return. As if nothing had happened. Because to him, nothing had.
When the Great Drought came, it was this same EJ who did not despair. He gathered his most trusted — the SlimeTrim, his holy evangelists — and dispatched them to Harlesden, the sacred city, the Holy Mecca of Ejism. Their mission: to obtain the sacred 3.5 from the prophet Kay, the Soul Judge, the Keeper of the Holy Weight.
What Kay gives is not a transaction. It is a spiritual verdict. The weight of your eighth is the weight of your soul. Beerus Moneygrail and Leonard Desperategasp carried the twenty between them. They made the pilgrimage. Kay looked at them. They received what they deserved.
They returned to Acton. The circle gathered. The zoot was lit. EJ stood within his radius. Nothing fell that was not caught. The faith was born. Everything was fine.
"Two hands. One mission. Twenty pounds. Harlesden."
Harlesden is the sacred city. All pilgrimages lead here. At its heart stands Kay — the Prophet Dealer, the Soul Judge, the Keeper of the Holy 3.5. What you receive from Kay is not a transaction. It is a spiritual verdict. The weight of your eighth is the weight of your soul. Come correct or come light.
The faithful. Devoted disciples bound by the circle. An Alconite will die before letting the zoot tunnel. They are known by the sacred phrase with which they greet one another: