Explorers_Beyond The Horizon

by C J Paget

  “Does Galex require the sacrifice of living children to ensure fertility?”

  “Of course.”

  “And this one?” Non picked up an avian figurine.

  “Oh, that’s Fellaroo, god of the weather. He’s more bloodthirsty than most,” the shopkeeper giggled.

  Non dropped Fellaroo and manifested wrath. Lightning erupted from his fingers and crackled up and down the shop, shattering idols and burning shelves. Non continued until the shop was reduced to ash. When he lowered his hands, the shopkeeper fell and groveled.

  “Look,” Non said, “earthquakes, weather, birth, death are all natural phenomena, not the whims of supernatural beings.”

  “Oh mighty god, forgive me my trespasses.”

  “I’m not a god.”

  “Of course. Forgive my stupidity. You are obviously the one true god.”

  Non sighed and rubbed his head. This wasn’t going well.

  “I shall fetch my daughter to sacrifice to you, oh great one.”

  “No, you shall not sacrifice your daughter to me.

  “My son then,” offered the shopkeeper.

  Non experienced his first headache. “Fine,” he replied and walked away.

  The next morning Non went under a mountain to explain to a colony of collectivist insects that if they cooperated with another colony of collectivist insects they could more efficiently exploit certain hard-to-reach resources. However, the insects kept spraying him with a narcotic secretion from their anal glands.

  Non gave up and rose to the surface. There was the shopkeeper binding the limbs of a young male.

  The shopkeeper lifted a long, curved knife over his head.

  “Stop!”

  Non manifested next to the shopkeeper, who dropped the knife and groveled again.

  “Oh great and true god, I was fulfilling your commandment to sacrifice my son.”

  Non’s headache returned.

  “You have passed my test for obedience, shopkeeper. Send your child home.”

  Non ordered him to fetch writing materials that he may write down Non’s wisdom.

  “Ask me anything, shopkeeper.”

  The shopkeeper unrolled a scroll and held a stylus ready.

  “Do you or do you not want one of my children as sacrifice?”

  “No, you shall not sacrifice your children or anyone else to me.”

  “May I have sex with my daughter?”

  “No, for that is gross.”

  “If my neighbor has goodly treasure, may I take it?”

  “No, you shall not steal.”

  “If my neighbor offends me by playing raucous music late into the night, may I bash his brains in with a blunt instrument?”

  “No, you shall not kill.”

  “If my neighbor’s mate has enticing globes, may I fondle them?”

  “No, you shall not covet your neighbor’s mate’s enticing globes.”

  The shopkeeper sighed, “What may I do?”

  “Just be nice to each other.”

  “Nice?”

  “Yes, nice.”

  “What if there is no reward in it for me?”

  “You should still be nice.”

  “But why?”

  Non manifested anger. A nearby bush burst into flames. The shopkeeper groveled again.

  “Because I said so! Now go forth and spread the word.”

  Whereupon the shopkeeper set forth to preach the wisdom of Non and became an important person in his tribe.

  That settled, Non went away to observe the creatures and catch up on his note-taking.

  * * * * *

  In time, the shopkeeper died. His children took on the role of tribal priests. It fell to them to interpret the wisdom of Non and rule on difficult questions and disputes. The tribe even named itself The Children of Non.

  One day, they were attacked by a neighboring tribe.

  Brandishing sharpened sticks, the tribe overran The Children of Non, driving them from their homes. Those who couldn’t flee were killed or taken as slaves.

  They asked the priests, “How could this happen to us?”

  The priesthood conferred and came up with an answer. “Non is angry with us. There has been altogether too much licentiousness going on. We have been sent to wander in the wilderness until we get our act together.”

  In time, they came upon another tribe of wanderers. This tribe had cattle, water, and foodstuffs.

  The Children of Non were hungry, thirsty, and poor. They asked the priests how they should approach the strangers.

  “We should ask politely for help,” said the first priest. “Does it not say in The Wisdom of Non, ‘Be nice,’ and ‘You shall not steal’?”

  “Were they nice to us when we were driven from our homes?” asked the second priest.

  The third priest noted that if the letters for the word ‘steal’ were rearranged and written in the past imperfect tense it would read ‘steal among you.’ Therefore the commandment would read, ‘You shall not steal among you,’ and not apply to non-worshippers.

  “Works for me,” said the first priest.

  “I’m sold,” said the second.

  The Children of Non raised their sharpened sticks and attacked the foreign tribe. The tribe was easily overrun and driven from their homes. Those who couldn’t flee were killed or taken as slaves.

  The Children of Non grew into a mighty nation, prosperous and strong.

  Non paused taking notes. Although the creatures’ behavior was fascinating, it was far from what he expected.

  He decided to become one of the furry creatures, not merely to look like them but be one of them, subject to all their physical needs and limitations.

  The first thing he felt was heaviness. The planet’s gravity pressed down on his skeletal structure. His muscles instinctively reacted, straining to hold his body upright.

  He took a few tentative steps, flexed and stretched his body, then entered Nonsalem, capital city of The Children of Non.

  Over the rooftops, the Temple of Non towered. Non made his way through the streets until he arrived at its entryway and addressed a priest who was sweeping the steps.

  “Pardon me, I am a stranger here and would like to know the wisdom of Non.”

  “Blessings on you, stranger.” The priest gave Non the broom. “You sweep while I talk.”

  “Never eat root vegetables with dairy in the same meal,” the priest said.

  “Why?”

  “Because Non gave us this commandment as he brought us forth from the wilderness. Also, if you marry a virgin you will be stoned to death on your wedding night.”

  “Because it displeases Non?”

  “Precisely.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Is it not written in the Wisdom of Non? Did Non not guide us through the desert and bring us victory over our enemies?”

  Non didn’t remember doing that, but he let the priest continue his lecture on the acts Non performed for the sake of his children.

  “The faithful shall don yellow hats during the first week of spring (yellow being Non’s favorite color). A tenth of one’s income shall be given to the clergy that they may spread the word without having to get jobs.”

  Non felt hollow, empty inside. He realized what the feeling was.

  “I’m hungry. Do you have any food?”

  “No,” the priest answered. “I fed you spiritual nourishment. Don’t you have money?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “Then you will have to get a job or go to the street of beggars. You can’t stay here.”

  The priest took his broom and shooed Non off the temple steps.

  Non walked through the city until he came to a street where creatures were standing or sitting on the ground, arms outstretched.

  Non’s feet and stomach hurt. He could abandon the physical body and cease the discomfort, but he wanted to bring a complete report back to the Committee. He was sure the physical body was an important clue to the c
reatures’ behavior.

  He copied the behavior of the beggars. Non sat down and extended a hand.

  “Alms for the poor.”

  Some of the passersby scowled at him. Some stared blankly like he was invisible. Others stared at the ground, avoiding his eyes.

  “Get a job, bum,” one spat at him.

  Non digested the unpleasant sensation he felt. He wondered what he was doing wrong.

  “Non bless you, sir,” a beggar across the street said upon receiving a donation.

  Non looked closely and saw the beggar was covered in sores. As he looked around he realized almost all the beggars were damaged in some way. Several had virulent sores on their skin. One was minus an appendage. One held a crying infant in its lap.

  Non needed an illness. He closed his eyes and visualized pockets of bacteria in his flesh, growing and swelling, then bursting out of his skin.

  “Ouch!” he yelled. Disease hurt. He furiously scratched at his burning, itching skin. His fingers came away covered in pus and blood.

  A coin clattered on the ground in front of him.

  He picked it up and looked at it. His vision blurred a bit as the disease entered his bloodstream and attacked his sensory organs.

  How did physical beings live like this?

  He needed water. There was a well at the end of the street. He stood and staggered down the street to get a drink.

  As he got there, three creatures blocked his way.

  “You can’t drink here.”

  “What do you mean? I’m just like you.” Non wondered if he manifested his body incorrectly.

  “You’re diseased, filthy, poor. You’re disgusting,” the leader of the trio sneered.

  “Besides,” said another, “there’s a water tax.”

  “Yeah, you have to pay the fee if you want to drink.”

  “But I have money.” Non held out his coin.

  The first thug snatched the coin while another struck Non from behind. Non collapsed on the ground and the thugs kicked him a few times before wandering off, laughing.

  He decided to halt the experiment. He manifested health. The bacteria flooding his body died off. The poison disappeared. His skin cleared and his stomach stopped rumbling.

  “A miracle!”

  “Praise be to Non!”

  “Heal me,” pleaded one of the beggars. A mass of afflicted creatures surrounded Non. They knelt before him, tugging his robe and stroking him, as if touching his body would relieve their suffering.

  “Listen,” he said, “you don’t need me to heal you, just do it yourself.”

  “What? How?”

  “Umm, well…” Non wasn’t sure how he did it. He just did it. “Believe you are healed. Really believe it.”

  A beggar raised her arms to the sky. “I believe in Non!”

  “No, no, not that sort of nonsense,” Non interrupted. “Believe in yourself, in your own ability. Your thoughts and emotions are powerful. If you control them, you can control the world around you.”

  He pushed his way out of the crowd and ran down the street. Some tried to follow him, but being sickly, couldn’t keep up.

  The priest had mentioned something called a ‘job’ as a means of acquiring money. Non asked some creatures where one got a job. He was directed to a place just outside the city walls.

  He came to a field where several wagons were lined up and a crowd milled about. On top of each wagon a creature stood and shouted offers for jobs.

  “I need five to pick wamba vines.”

  “I need four strong backs to milk garlaxes.”

  Creatures raised their appendages to signal acceptance, then climbed onto the wagons. When a wagon had enough workers, it pulled away.

  Non raised an appendage to accept a job and climbed onto a wagon driven by someone who needed jagger leaves harvested.

  He and five other creatures who needed jobs trundled down a dirt road until they came to a field of jagger plants.

  * * * * *

  A creature called an “overseer” gave them baskets and harvesting hooks. They were told to each take a row and cut off the tender leaves at the top of each plant until their baskets were full.

  Non put down his basket in front of a plant, stooped down, and chopped off the leaves. Then he picked the leaves off the ground and put them in his basket.

  Non was pleased. Work was so satisfying.

  When he filled the basket, he noticed his skeletal structure had difficulty standing erect. He carried the full basket to a bin and emptied it with the rest of the harvested leaves.

  “Now what?” Non asked the overseer.

  “What do you mean, now what?” the overseer replied. He was leaning against a tree, appendages folded, chewing on a stalk of grass.

  “I filled the basket, now what do I do?”

  The overseer spat the stalk out of his mouth. “Fill it again!” he yelled, and pointed to the field. “They’ve already filled five baskets each.”

  For the first time, Non noticed the size of the field. There were dozens of rows yet to be picked and only six pickers.

  He went back to work. His bones ached from stooping. The fibers in the leaves chafed his skin. He got careless and cut himself with the harvesting hook. Non ignored the blood and kept working.

  Eventually he developed a system: grab leaves with one hand, chop with the other, let them fall into the basket, scoot basket with foot to the next plant.

  At sunset, they were allowed to stop and drink water. The overseer said they could finish tomorrow.

  They got into the wagon and rode back to the city.

  As they climbed off, the overseer gave them their pay.

  “Why so little?” Non asked.

  “You picked a third of what they did, you get a third of their pay.”

  Non hoped he had enough to buy food and shelter for the night.

  As they approached the city gate, a group of armed and uniformed creatures stopped them.

  “Taxes,” one of them said.

  The pickers held out their earnings. Non followed suit and one of the uniformed creatures helped itself to coins.

  “Why are you taking our coins?” Non asked.

  “Taxes—money the government takes for services like roads, tax collectors, and protection from enemies.”

  “Do you have to take so much?” Non worked hard for so little money. Now he had considerably less.

  “There’s a war on, you know. The savage Frittites want to kill us.”

  “Why do they want to kill us?”

  “They hate us for our freedoms,” the creature said, and whacked Non on the head with his stick. “Now pay your taxes.”

  The pickers headed down a street where food vendors plied their trade.

  They purchased their food and found an empty spot on the street to eat. All Non could afford was a bowl of gruel.

  “Would anyone like some gruel?” Non held out his bowl. “It’s okay, I’ve got plenty.”

  One of the creatures chuckled and spooned a savory morsel from its bowl into Non’s bowl.

  “Don’t give any to him,” protested another creature. “He didn’t earn it.”

  “He’s never done this kind of work before. He’s hungrier than we are.”

  Non gave it a spoonful of gruel.

  Another gave Non some of its food. Non insisted on returning the favor by spooning some gruel into its bowl. Soon they were sharing back and forth. Even the protesting creature shared its food. They were laughing and joking with each other.

  At one point they remarked there was still plenty of food.

  “I didn’t realize how much there was,” said one.

  “My bowl is still full,” said another.

  Other street creatures gathered around their little group attracted by the merriment and delicious smells.

  “We shared,” Non explained. “We forgot about what we don’t have, and bounty replaced poverty.”

  One of the pickers turned around and handed his bowl
to a stranger.

  “Here friend, I’m full and don’t want this to go to waste.”

  The crowd around them picked up the mood. They began sharing their own food. They talked and laughed with each other. Bottles were passed around.

  Someone passed a bottle to Non and he drank.

  A burning sensation passed down his throat, hit his stomach, and radiated throughout his body. His mind eased and muscles loosened.

  “Lo, this is good,” he murmured. The world seemed right. His body relaxed. These furry creatures were so charming and endearing.

  A female stood in front of him. “I recognize you. You healed yourself of affliction. Please help my child.”

  Non looked at the child’s face, covered with sores, and eyes, filled with pain.

  “Oh, all right.”

  He touched the child’s face and said, “It’s okay, little fella. You’re better now.”

  The child that had been pale, sniffly, and weepy, gained a rosy glow to its cheeks. It squealed and laughed. It wriggled out of its mother’s grasp and ran off to play, with its nervous mother running after it.

  The crowd gasped.

  “A miracle!”

  “How did you do that?”

  “Must be a trick,”

  “Master, show me the way.”

  They pressed in on him, peppering him with questions and pleas. He tried to answer but they were too excited, yelling and pushing each other to get close.

  The crowd parted and Non was surrounded by armed creatures. They grabbed him and hustled him away. He asked where they were going, but they hit him with their sticks and dragged him harder. They took him to a jail and thrust him into a cell.

  As the jailer turned the key, Non demanded to know why he was there.

  “Performing miracles without a license.”

  The jailer pocketed the key and left. Non was alone. He lay down on a bed of straw and spent the night imagining the Committee’s derision on hearing he had been taken prisoner.

  * * * * *

  Next morning, the jailer unlocked the door.

  “Visitors.”

  Several of the creatures that sat with him the night before filed in.

  “Master, we heard what happened.”

  “Why were you arrested?” one wanted to know.

  “For performing miracles, but it is nonsense; there is nothing I can do that you can’t do.”