<***Note***>
In an effort to contribute to "atheist literature", I'm writing the
following short s/f story. I've been having trouble motivating myself
to write this thing. So I'm hoping that if I know someone might be
waiting on the next part, that will help move things along a little.
;-) Here's to hoping it delivers the message I'm trying to convey!
Merci! :-)
- Bill
</***Note***>
"Un Danse Finale Avec Dieu - Part One"
(C)2004 by Uncle Dollar Bill
Beneath a crisp, deep blue twilight busy with the shimmering
of thousands of orbiting lowalts, cool streamers of air drifted
noiselessly from the rafters onto the Metronome's topmost balcony.
Occasionally, a lowalt passed overhead big enough so that even from
the ground you could tell its general shape, which often served as a
trademark of the business running it. Approaching from the north,
Malloria thought she spied an exclusive hotel while closing in from
the East appeared to be a "country fried" something or other. Still
bathed in sunlight, lowalts danced from horizon to horizon throughout
the darkening velvet sky like a vast army of pixies. Tinier lights
moving all around, about and between them produced an effect like old
fashioned sparklers viewed from a distance. In olden days this close
to the inner city, such a view would have been obscured by fog. Thank
God humans finally figured a way around the entire "fossil fuel" mess,
she thought.
Her steel blue eyes changed focus as they shifted downward.
The dark and distant horizon engulfed her view for a moment before she
found herself peering out upon Beethoa's bustling groundside night
life. The far horizon was black, but much closer to her Metronome
balcony the gleaming city of Beethoa came alive. While most people
seemed to prefer life among the lowalts these days, Beethoa continued
proving to be an undeniable groundside attraction for many species.
At a slight distance from the southern edge of the city, spherical and
cylindrical buildings bathed in amber light nestled among the trees of
some far-flung industrial sector. Closer to the city, the lights
changed to a vast array of color - whites and reds, greens and blues,
any color one could imagine to one extent or another. At the
perimeter of the city spaced apart in regular two mile intervals, huge
monolithic tethers seemed to hover above the city with nothing to hold
them, their secret anchors being weighted telemetry stations in
geosynchronous low-earth orbit.
Cars shaped like chromatic teardrops of countless hues flew
about the city, emerging from the trees here or sinking beneath the
rooftops there. Nearly as many cars circulated about the city as
circulated to and from the lowalts. In olden times, this many cars
would have made a mind-numbing din as they plodded about the streets,
land bound. But modern cars moved fluidly in any direction with
little more than a hum that could scarcely be heard unless you were a
passenger. The noise of cutting through the air was far louder than
any noise generated by their engines. A white hatchtop flew close
enough and slowly enough for both Kaylin and Malloria to make eye
contact with the occupant, but it happened so quickly that neither
could recall much more than jet black, somewhat forlorn-looking eyes.
Perhaps one of the many culture buffs seeking a stolen glimpse of
Malloria, or perhaps just some wayward man out for an aimless drive.
"Always so hollow," Malloria sighed, voice blending in
smoothly with the steady trickling of a fountain situated near the
entrance to her apartment.
Kaylin's right eye twitched as she said it. He had been her
attendant for more than fifty years, so he knew what she meant. But
still, he knew she wouldn't forgive him if he didn't ask. "How so?"
He hadn't seen this "hollowness", and could never see it when she
tried to point it out.
"Like they're searching," she sighed, turning to look into his
eyes. As if responding to an unspoken question, she shook her head in
tiny, slow movements, closing her eyes as she added, "I never see that
in you."
Inside, he rolled his eyes as he knew all too well the
conversation that was about to ensue. Never angry, never resentful,
but always it provoked a subtle tension. "You always say that," he
said, "but then to you, I'm just an animal. I have no soul. I have
no hollow to be felt, no void to be filled." Some parts of the script
had become pleasantly poetic in recent years, he mused. Then again,
poetry was his forte.
"Well you've said that yourself," she said, using that "Don't
blame _me_ for our miscommunication" chuckle from the corner of her
mouth.
"Don't tell me you finally believe me." His tone was amused, a
smirk playing upon his smooth, black lips - the only fur free patch of
skin on his entire face.
Truth be told, she didn't know what to believe any more. Ever
since that first enhancement had been offered to a non-human primate,
the world had been inundated with such questions. The whole thing
snowballed from there. Animals of all kind now freely mingled with
human society, having earned the right to vote and own land not even a
hundred years ago - at least so long as they accepted the enhancements
that would enable them to understand human society. This proved to be
a fatal blow to Earth's many religions, at least more radical
varieties of them, as most of them had as their foundation that humans
were something special and unique, that nothing else like them existed
under the sun. Enhancements, however, told a different story. It
didn't even take an "enhancement", all it took was communication.
Merely enabling humans to communicate proficiently with non-humans
proved sufficient to demonstrate a human level of understanding and
emotiveness spread throughout the animal kingdom, something which blew
all such religious tenets out of the water. The most interesting
thing was when the animals began realizing that _other_ animals had
similar feelings. The number of natural predators seeking assistance
in becoming vegan provided more than a few years of sensationalistic
adjustment, during which time religion's grip upon the minds of the
masses seemed to all but disappear. Adding even just a slight amount
of neurological re-wiring and manipulative ability produced non-human
individuals whose ingenuity rivaled the most skilled human genius.
The lingering impression of religion upon the human psyche had no
choice but to start its final plunge into oblivion at that point, as
the reality it sought to define - that of a place where humans were
special, different - was shown to be nothing more than a cultural pipe
dream. At least the pipe dream seemed to exist among most every
species.
Thus came Malloria's dilemma, the bane of her very existence.
To the best of anyone's knowledge, she was the last remaining
believer. This gave her status as somewhat of a "minor celebrity"
anytime she showed her face in public. At least she could console
herself with the belief that on some level, it only meant that people
still cared about God. Her single focus in life had become proving
God back to the masses, reuniting humanity with the divine, restoring
the ancient relationships between humans and God that most surely once
existed. For her, it was all that mattered. Yet her every attempt
met with failure. If she could just figure out what God was waiting
for, what He expected her to do in order for Him to fulfill His
promise...
"No," she sighed again, "I don't believe you. I think you
have a soul and deep down, I think you know it. Maybe that's why God
made humans - so we could bring more souls into the world by enabling
animals to have them, too."
Her rationalizations were always somewhat interesting, though
he hadn't taken them seriously since first acquiring enhanced
intelligence almost sixty years ago. Rather, they interested him in
more of a "cultural history" sort of way. Many of his acquaintances
envied his relationship with her, for she was truly the last glimpse
of an entirely different era in the cultural evolution of primates.
He smiled and said nothing to her blind assertion, his smile being all
that she needed to hear. She gave up as usual.
"It's time for Temple," she said, pointing at its
characteristic diamond shape approaching Beethoa from the northeast in
a now black-as-it-can-be sky. "Shall we go?" Extending one slender,
graceful hand towards him, his large, furry hand covered hers as they
assisted each other out of their chairs. With a whistle, he summoned
the car to the balcony and helped her step into it from the back. As
he slid into the neon blue gelseat beside hers and the chromatic
yellow hatchtop closed upon them, Kaylin couldn't help but to wonder
if she'd always be this way. Together they began ascending to Temple,
a small "cult following" of sorts tailing from a respectful distance
as they arose.
As they rode, her staring wistfully out upon the shrinking
city below, she murmered something softly which he wasn't sure she
meant for him to hear: "I fear it might soon be time for un danse
finale avec Dieu..."
A final dance with God... He hadn't heard her reference that
ritual in ages, and in the dead tongue of French which she used only
for the most sacred of issues. He still had no idea what the ritual
consisted of. A disturbing feeling crept into his chest as he
pondered what it might mean.
::to be continued::
--
L8r,
Uncle Dollar Bill
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