by Darrell Bain
“Hi, Mayor. I was just trying again to figure out what these damn boxy things are here for."
“Any luck?"
“Not so far, but the aliens must have put them here for a reason. I can hear little sounds coming from inside them occasionally, but I still don't have a clue as to their purpose. What's on your mind?"
Lyda sat down and crossed her legs. “There's a man here who claims to be a preacher. He says he wants to have a revival."
“What did you tell him?” Elijah asked, taking a seat beside her.
“I said fine, so long as he held it far enough away so that it didn't disturb the ones who weren't interested."
Elijah laughed, a big guffaw that died quickly. “Good for you. I saw him before you did; he stopped by here on the way to see you. Did he say what faith he was ordained in?"
“He said he was an all-faith minister, whatever that means."
“Right. A person calling himself an all-faith preacher is usually a fairly good indication that he hasn't been ordained by any recognized religion. Or her, as the case may be. Or perhaps even a defrocked minister. At any rate, let's be a bit leery, shall we?"
“I already am. Do many men dye their hair, Elijah?"
“You noticed, too, huh? Well, it's not necessarily a sign of chicanery, but I caught something else. He's had a face-lift, too."
“Really? How can you tell?"
Elijah shifted positions so he was leaning back against the projecting box. “His face doesn't match his hands. No lines or sags below the chin. And the gray hair growing out from where it was dyed. He's older than he looks. Miss Brightner, I'd watch him very closely. Any time there's a disaster situation or lack of an established authority, the charlatans come out of the woodwork. Sperlock may be okay, but..."
“But he may not, either. I don't want to tell people they can't have religion, though. Not if they want it."
“No you can't. Religion is part of what makes us human. It gives comfort to many people and is a necessity to others. However, religious zealots and proselytizers have caused untold grief in the world, too."
“Like the Muslim terrorists on earth?"
“Well, yes, but they are relatively harmless compared to some jihads in the past. Anyway, I sense this is going to be a problem for you."
“For us, Elijah. I couldn't run this place without you and a few others and you know it."
Elijah offered her a thin smile. “You do know your limitations, don't you? That's good. Many leaders in the history of our race didn't, and they caused untold deaths and destruction. What ideas do you have for dealing with this?"
“For now, I'm going to listen to what the man says the first time he preaches. If he asks people to continue cooperating and doing useful work, I won't interfere. But if he wants people to stop working and learning and spend their time praying and singing and listening to him instead of living under the rules we've instigated, then I'll put a stop to it."
Elijah gazed curiously at her. “Are you sure you can?"
Lyda had already begun thinking about it. A few of Sperlocks's mannerisms had bells ringing in her mind. “Uh huh. You'll have to help a little but it shouldn't take much. Make sure you're there when he preaches, but don't stay right by my side. Here's what we'll do if I think we need to upset his applecart.” Lyda outlined her scheme to Elijah.
He slapped his knee in mirth. “Perfect. But what if it doesn't work?"
“You noticed the face-lift. I think there's something else about him that I caught and you didn't. I'll use it if I have to."
“Fine. Tell me."
Lyda did. Elijah nodded. “You could very well be right. Well, we'll see what develops. Do you know, I'm beginning to enjoy life here. I haven't been that enthusiastic over anything since I lost my wife, but just watching you and working with you has given me a new outlook. Others are finally deciding to live again, too. You can be proud of what you've accomplished."
“Thank you,” Lyda said, very sincerely. As hard as she was trying, it was nice to know she was having a positive effect on people. “Let me know if anything new develops with the reverend."
“Will do."
Lyda went off to get some sleep, along with most of the other people. Their diurnal cycles were beginning to coincide nicely.
* * *
CHAPTER TEN
Nearly a week later, as they judged time, Sperlock reappeared with Ervin and Mary. He was all smiles and graciousness and mingled with Lyda's group, talking constantly about the need for faith and how he had brought his own group and others to renewed trust in the Lord. He emphasized his role as a minister, admitting that he subscribed to no specific denomination only when pressed. By the time he had spread the word that he would be preaching near the biggest box out from the column in only a few hours, his engaging personality had many of Lyda's people interested. Almost half of them began gathering in the designated area near the time he was supposed to begin.
Most of the classes were called off for lack of enough participants. Some went to hear Sperlock; others had no interest and used the time for other duties or amusements.
Lyda was among the last to arrive. She scanned the crowd and spotted Elijah up near the front. She edged around to the end of the semicircle of attendees and waited until she caught Elijah's eye. He smiled and she returned it, then began observing the people. They seemed interested and happy to have something different to do. A few who she knew were in one or more of the classes saw her and looked away guiltily, like children playing hooky from school.
It took Lyda less than ten minutes to decide to bring a halt to the proceedings. Aaron Sperlock began by telling everyone how guilty they were for failing to have regular prayer services and how he had observed them eating without first asking the Lord's blessing on the bounty He provided. From there, he gravitated to condemning those spending their time listening to teachers who were committing blasphemy by saying religion evolved naturally, rather than being sent to earth by God himself. When he began on the next subject, Lyda had had enough.
“...and I say to you that the Lord created woman from Adam's rib to be a helpmate to man, and to bear his children and to love, honor and obey him. Yea, we have strayed and this hellish place is our punishment. Only by following the dictates of the Lord as given..."
Lyda interrupted Sperlock in a loud voice when he paused for breath. “How long have you been dyeing your hair?"
“I don't...” He suddenly stopped to think and realized that without mirrors, he wouldn't have noticed how much of his last dye job would be growing out by now.
“Yes, you do. It's as plain as day. Are you a liar?"
“Listen here, you..."
He got no further. Elijah fairly shouted. “You've had a face-lift too, haven't you? Are you so vain you have to dye your hair and have plastic surgery instead of ageing naturally? What are you trying to conceal? Who are you, really?"
“I am a minister of the Lord. I have been called..."
“What church called you? You're not even ordained, are you? That Reverend title you throw around isn't any more real than your hair or face, is it?” Lyda had to yell in order to have her girlish voice heard over the rising hubbub and discord. It was sufficient, and Sperlock reacted by looking around wildly while his neck and face took on a red color everyone in sight could see.
“I am a minister of all people. The Lord needs no denominations.” His voice cracked with anger while his face showed plainly that every challenge had hit him squarely.
Elijah put the final touch on his credibility, using the tidbit of information Lyda had supplied. “When did you get out of prison, Sperlock? Or is that your real name?"
The outcry after that remark drowned out any possibility of denial. Several men and women moved into his space and began shouting at him. He tried to stand and explain, but Lyda had planned for that, too. Karen sent him running in fear of his life when she yelled, “How many women do you have sleeping with you, you big fake? I heard it's at
least three. You don't even believe in the sanctity of one man with one woman."
Lyda watched Sperlock and the man named Ervin running away. Several men made motions to chase after them, causing them to run even faster. Howls of laughter and derision were the capstones of the “revival". Lyda knew that from now on, her people would listen with a jaundiced ear to any other persons who came around seeking to modify their practices or gain followers. A few minutes after Sperlock and his cohort were out of sight, the woman named Mary approached Lyda.
“Miss Brightner—Mayor, I mean. May I talk to you?"
Lyda recognized her and remembered that she had arrived with the fake reverend. “All right,” Lyda said, hoping the plain looking woman with her hair tied back in a loose ponytail wasn't going to try and defend Sperlock.
“That was a good thing you did, exposing that man. He's got a lot of people buffaloed into believing every word he says."
“Then why were you with him?"
Mary looked down at her feet, then back up, trying to match Lyda's level gaze. “It's a man's world now, except ... except I heard it's not like that here. Is that right?"
“Yes, that's right. We treat everyone equally and we've made up rules to live by."
“May I stay here? I promise I won't be any problem."
“You're welcome, so long as the food and water is supplied like it has been. If it starts running short, we'll have to split some people off to other columns. In that case, it will be first here, first choice. Okay?"
“That's fair."
“Fine. Go to the column and read our rules.” Lyda smiled at her in the way she did for a person who appeared to be sincere in their desires.
In the days that followed, Lyda did notice there was more praying and blessing of the food provided in abundance from the column, but no one attempted to organize regular services. There was a vague feeling among the people that Lyda accepted and approved of private faith but wanted no rabble-rousing clerics. After some thought, she did proclaim that every seventh day would be a day of rest, to be used for whatever activities suited individual tastes. That left room for gatherings of those who needed or wanted religion in their lives, but it was called neither Sunday nor any other designation of a religious nature. Everyone began referring to it as “Rest Day” and the name stuck.
* * * *
Time passed. Lyda sent out envoys to other columns where people had grouped, offering to teach them all the things she and her helpers had begun and encouraging them to develop simple rules to live by as her own community had done—or to join with her group in a loose association or confederacy to promote the exchange of ideas, and for increased companionship and the opportunity to make new friends. She was pleasantly surprised to find that other nearby groups were glad to follow her lead. Stories about her had spread through the wandering of some of her constituents who liked to explore and meet new people. In time, that led to a gathering of leaders; held at Lyda's column by consensus.
There were an even dozen who attended, each with two aides as Lyda had suggested. She had done that to be as certain as she could that each group got a fair rendition of the meeting.
It went even better than she had hoped after the other leaders’ initial surprise at how young she was, how easily she was able to speak and propound her ideas of the best way to live together and how Elijah and Troy, her aides, deferred to her and referred to her as “Miss Brightner", or “Mayor". Lyda was careful to address the other leaders as Mister and Missus, which eased them into feeling comfortable when addressing one so young by title. Before long, she thought most of them stopped thinking of her as a child and accepted her as their equal—or superior.
Lyda had Elijah read her agenda from woven tendril cloth with alphabet letters affixed to it by a loose pasty substance squeezed from a plant growing in the trays, discovered by experimentation. The improvised writing impressed them as much as the actual words.
Elijah began. “Miss Brightner developed our agenda from the best suggestions passed on to her at our weekly “Town Meeting". I'll read them off.
“First, she believes you should each have a formal set of rules for your people to live under, but the particulars should be left up to each group. In short, what we like, may not necessarily be what you do and we certainly don't want to dictate our agenda to any of you.
“Second, she thinks it would be a good idea to have a way for us to formalize unions of men and women or um, other pairings, and to record them in the ledger where we've already written out what we call our Charter that's posted on the side of the big tray there.” Elijah pointed, again impressing the other leaders and their assistants. “Also, she proposes that each group recognize the others’ unions, no matter how they are performed."
That got general nods of acceptance around the circle they were sitting in.
“Next, Miss Brightner would like us all to agree on a common span of time in office of the leaders, and to all have elections to either confirm the sitting leaders, or to elect new ones. We've already had our election and as you know, selected Miss Brightner as our Mayor by a substantial majority. For the time being, she appoints her own aides, but she suggests we have the people confirm all our choices in order to let everyone be satisfied that cronyism is being avoided. That's what we did and it seems to have worked fine. We've had no complaints.
“We would also like to form a scientific council, to rotate among our groups, the purpose being to exchange information about the aliens and discoveries we've made or any of us make in the future, not only about the aliens, but about this place we're in as well. Anything we can learn may help us survive future difficulties imposed on us by the aliens.
“We've begun schooling for youngsters and classes for adults, but we don't propose to make them mandatory.
“Miss Brightner asks that we exchange information and methods of caring for the young, almost all of whom have been separated from their parents."
Elijah continued on through several other proposals, including methods of arbitration, formation of an inter-column police force, with training by those with previous experience in legal or law enforcement professions, and regular meetings of elected leaders.
A woman shook her head approvingly after Elijah finished speaking. “Damned if you haven't covered just about all the points I wanted to bring up. One thing you missed is medical care, though. Don't we need to coordinate that, especially for the elderly? Though I'll confess, I haven't seen many old people. I know we have hardly anything to work with, but what we do have could be shared."
Lyda nodded and gave the woman her best approving smile. “You're right. That's one point we didn't think of; I guess because we haven't had much sickness here, nor any really old people to care for.” She wondered why momentarily, but it was only a passing thought.
Several other items were added by other leaders, some of which needed to be hashed out and simplified, but at the end of the meeting, the vote was unanimous to accept the agreed upon points.
Lyda thanked them each for coming and surprised a few of them by remembering each and every name of both leaders and aides. She had found that having to do without most written matter sharpened the memory admirably. And as her body continued to develop, she thought her mind was keeping pace; and with both, there was still that sense of vitality and well being.
* * * *
Lyda stayed so busy for a time that she kept putting off the talk she had decided to have with Rayne Austin. It was bothering her that she still had no interest in sex when by rights and by the looks of her body, it seemed to her she should. One day when she had no really pressing affairs to tend to, she finally asked Rayne if they could have a private meeting.
Rayne was easy to talk to, and she made sure they were alone, taking Lyda for a slow walk back toward the edge of the environs where they had been ejected from the transports, and conversing along the way in a casual, rather than formal setting.
Lyda began after they were out of hearing of any
of the group. “I'm pretty well adjusted to having my periods and they're regular so I don't think I have any problems with that, nor anything else physically. But..."
“But that's not all of it, huh?"
“Not at all, Rayne. For one thing, I've been developing awfully fast. Have you noticed?"
“Yes, but I can't say whether that's normal or not for you. Some girls grow up faster than others. You're turning into a very pretty young lady. I've seen how the young boys and men look at you."
“That's one of my problems, though,” Lyda admitted. “I don't seem to have any interest in them. Before I was ... raped, I was starting to think about boys and getting curious about sex. You know, the mechanics of it and all. After that, it just stopped for some reason. But at the same time, I began to notice that there's something different inside me. It's really hard to explain. It's like I feel so much better than before the aliens came, like ... like I can do almost anything if I set my mind to it."
“Hmm. You know, I've noticed a bit of that in myself, and I've heard a few others talking about it, so I don't think it's related to you growing up. Perhaps it's an effect produced by the aliens, but we have no way of knowing or a way to measure internal changes, like with ECG's and PET scans. Let's leave that for another time. Now, so far as your lack of interest in sex; well, that happens. You had a terrible experience. But please, don't let that become a dominating influence in your life. It was in no way your fault and what you went through was not an example of what sex is supposed to be like. Sex isn't just for reproduction, as I'm sure you know. Our bodies have evolved to enjoy sex and that's how it should be. It's a wonderful thing when it's done with the right person—with someone you care for."
“Oh, I know what happened isn't my fault. But—well, I'm not completely innocent, you know. I know it's supposed to be nice. But at school, the kids passed pictures and downloads and video clips of lots of sex stuff that didn't look very enjoyable."
Rayne slowed her steps so that Lyda didn't have to worry about keeping up. “You do know that most of the trash you see on the internet isn't normal, don't you?"