Diuturnity's Dawn

by Foster, Alan Dean;

  Briann did not worry overmuch about such matters. Or nonmatters, depending on one's point of view. He had joined the Church to help people, no matter their shape. Thus far he had encountered nothing to make him second-guess his decision. His family remained puzzled, but supportive. Interestingly, Twikanrozex had encountered even more difficulty with his choice. Thranx society was not as fluid as that of the humans. Radical changes in lifestyle and direction were not as freely countenanced. Twikanrozex had been compelled to hoe a harder row than his human companion.

  Still, even though both considered themselves more sophisticated in matters of interspecies relations and had prepared themselves for this occasion with much serious study and preparation, the fair had already shown itself capable of delivering an endless round of surprises. Presently, they were passing a lively display devoted to illustrating the history of agriculture on Willow-Wane. Virtual thranx drove virtual machines to the accompaniment of narration in both Low Thranx and Terranglo. Appropriate odors suffused the area immediately around the exhibition. Generating the story via tridee transducers allowed the thranx producers to incorporate huge mechanicals and hundreds of workers without overwhelming the individual display.

  Passing by, a larger than usual human family paused briefly to gaze at the roof-high exhibit, whereupon the smallest child in the group raised a hand and pointed, yelling gleefully.

  "Look, look - an ant farm!"

  Briann felt his face flush slightly as he and Twikanrozex ambled on past the thoroughly enchanted family. His reaction was not in response to the child's comment, but because Twikanrozex, overhearing, requested an explanation of the term. When a slightly flustered Briann had finished elucidating, as diplomatically as he was able, the thranx gestured reassurance.

  "There's no need to be embarrassed, my friend. Your native arthropods are not my ancestors. Actually, I find the concept rather endearing." Swiveling his head to look directly back over his shoulder at the gawking family, he gestured with both truhands. "Certainly it has proven useful, as the larvae in question show no fear of my kind. Perhaps a general distribution of the educational toys to which the youngest referred might be considered by the Church."

  "There are other concerns," Briann endeavored to explain. "Although I have never owned such a bio-apparatus myself, I believe that the resourceful little arthropods in question have a tendency to escape their controlled environment, to the annoyance of any resident adults. I think the Church is better to stick with those visual aids that can provide instruction without the possibility of accompanying infestation."

  Twikanrozex's antennae drew together, showing that he was deep in thought. Finally he responded. "Perhaps, sellicc, you are right. I don't think self-contained habitats holding miniature humans would be welcome in the private chambers of many hives, either." He glanced at his friend. "Assuming such a contrivance could be constructed."

  "A people farm?" Briann pondered the notion. "I don't think so. Although if you offer humans enough monetary compensation, they'll do just about anything. In that respect, the thranx are more virtuous than my kind."

  "Not at all," Twikanrozex demurred. "It is only that we are most of the time too busy to be corrupted. When time exists for contemplation of possibilities, we too can be persuaded to make fools of ourselves."

  "Another vinculum between our peoples." Reassured by his friend's reiteration of the existence of mutual foolishness, Briann led the way out of the pavilion. All the walking, not to mention all the talking, was making him hungry.

  He shared the state of his stomach with his companion, who allowed as how he, too, could stand some sustenance.

  "What would you like?" Briann inquired. "We can go back inside, where the climate is more to your liking, or continue wandering until we come across something that appeals to both of us."

  "Let us wander." Twikanrozex was enjoying himself hugely. "The air is a little dry today, but not entirely intolerable."

  Briann hitched his sweat-dampened shirt higher on his shoulders and chose a pedestrian walkway at random. There was no need to consult a fair directory. The Church would guide them.

  It did indeed, as they soon found themselves resting comfortably in an outdoor venue that was raised slightly above ground level, giving the patrons a pleasant view of the busy fairgrounds that stretched to the lake and the green-clad hills beyond. Not for the first time, Briann reflected on what an excellent choice Dawn had been for such an enterprise. The semitropical nature of the climate was bearable to the thranx while not unduly uncomfortable for humans. Locating the fair next to a large lake had the effect of injecting additional humidity into the local atmosphere, thus pleasing the insectoids even further.

  At the moment, one of those aliens was finding exceptional pleasure in a mango-starfruit-guanabana crush, the terrestrial fruit juice drink being not only acceptable to his system, but avidly welcomed. The only difference between that and a similar beverage being enjoyed by Briann was that the thranx had ordered it made with tepid water instead of pulverized ice, a request that had left the perspiring human attendant shaking his head in silent disbelief. To the thranx, the notion of a "cold drink" was an oxymoron.

  Twikanrozex admired the flexibility of his friend's prehensile lips as Briann sipped easily at his own libation. With four opposing mandibles, the thranx could make quicker work of solid food than any human, but liquids gave them problems. Fluids had to be poured directly into the open mouth, or inhaled via often elaborately swirled and decorated, narrow-spouted drinking utensils. Only by inserting the tip of such a siphon partway down the insectoid throat could a thranx generate enough esophageal vacuum to draw liquid from a container. In contrast, the malleability of human flesh allowed someone like Briann to form an airtight seal around the edge of an open container and pull fluids up and in. There were advantages to having a ductile epidermis.

  Of course, Twikanrozex mused, such abilities were more than offset by the inherent aesthetic handicaps all humans suffered from. The thranx would not have exchanged his burnished, gleaming, blue-green exoskeleton for all the fluid-vacuuming abilities in the Arm. Slipping the drinking tip of his siphon-cup between his parted mandibles, he luxuriated in the slippery, sugary taste and feel of the exotic terrestrial refreshment as it coursed down his throat.

  "Ah, there you are!"

  Briann looked up from his chair to see two men advancing toward him. Both were older, one considerably so. Their eyes were intense, but not baleful. They were neatly dressed. Excessively so, given the ambient temperature and humidity within the pavilion.

  "May we join you?" the younger of the two asked politely. "We've been searching for you two ever since we came across your display."

  "We like to move around." Briann set his drink aside. "You know: meet folks, see the fair, try new experiences."

  "Well, you two are certainly a new experience for us. We've read about you, and seen bits and pieces about your organization on the tridee. I am Father Joseph." He indicated the distinguished, white-haired senior who had settled into the chair alongside him. "This is Father Jenakis. I am Twelfth Baptist, and he is Orthodox Episcolic."

  Briann explained to his watchful companion. "Traditional human churches."

  Twikanrozex gestured welcome to the two men of the cloth. "I'm pleased to meet a pair of fellow theologians."

  Joseph accepted the proffered chitinous hand tentatively. Making no move to emulate the gesture, Father Jenakis maintained a respectful distance to go with his thoughtful silence.

  "We hadn't expected you to be so fluent in our language."

  Twikanrozex dipped his antennae forward, keeping one truhand wrapped around his drinking utensil. "I am conversant in several languages, including one that involves only the use of gestures. If one has information to impart, one cannot expect the audience to go to the trouble of learning the imparter's tongue."

  Briann smiled pleasantly. "Twikanrozex doesn't have a tongue, of course. The thranx modulate sounds deep within thei
r throats, by means of mechanisms that would choke a human. That it comes out sounding so similar to us is as remarkable as it is advantageous. I am Padre Briann and this is Padre Twikanrozex."

  Father Jenakis snorted curtly. His younger associate winced ever so slightly before resuming the conversation. "As you may know, a number of the established Terran religions are having some trouble with this United Church of yours."

  "It's yours, too," Twikanrozex observed, managing to unsettle the earnest Father Joseph in as few words as possible.

  "No, not mine, I'm afraid. Some of my colleagues and I are concerned. At first, no one paid much attention to your efforts."

  "No one paidany attention to our efforts," Briann corrected him, still smiling.

  Joseph had the grace to smile back. "But now your message, peculiar and unconventional as it is, appears to be having some small effect. In particular, you are making inroads among the young who dominate the upper intelligence percentiles. This is not only disturbing, it is unprecedented."

  "Yes, we know." Briann sat back in his chair. Around them, crowd sounds rose and fell: laughter and squeals of delight and shouts of surprise. "Usually it's the other way around. It's those in the lower percentiles who tend to be persuaded first."

  "Dangerous nonsense!" the older man huffed, deigning to speak for the first time.

  "Not a bit of it." Briann had heard it all before, though not usually from official representatives of terrestrial churches. "We don't proselytize. We don't try to convert anyone. We just put our creed out where it can be examined by anyone who might be interested. We don't push it. It's a free society we live in, in these days of open communications and galactic colonization. Anyone is free to join any organization they wish, provided the tenets of that fraternity do not impinge on the rights of others." He spread his hands wide. "We don't even ask anyone who joins the UC to give up their previous religion, if they have one, or stop going to that particular church, if they wish to continue to do so."

  "So how can we be dangerous?" Twikanrozex finished for his friend.

  "Your doctrine is seductive," the older man growled, his true sentiments clearly held in check by the admonitions of his own. "Worse than seductive, it mocks all other religions. You worship nothing but irrelevancy!"

  Twikanrozex motioned for understanding. "We don't worship irrelevancy: We simply recognize it. Weare irrelevant. All of us. I, my colleague Briann, you, everyone in this pavilion, everyone on this planet. Our presence justifies nothing, and signifies only the accidental evolution of some exceptionally active amino acids. The results are admirable, even praiseworthy. But they are not relevant to the evolvement of the universe. One of the core beliefs of the United Church is that every sentient being should come to understand its place in the scheme of things."

  "And what is that place?" Father Joseph ignored his senior's look of disapproval.

  "A little to the left, we think." Briann's smile widened. "I'm sorry if that sounds too irrelevant. You see, we are a dogma that is founded on full comprehension of our own individual and collective insignificance. Having accepted that, we can mature in comfort. I am quite content with who I am and with my place in the cosmos. Likewise, Twikanrozex is content with his."

  "What about eternal damnation and salvation?" Father Jenakis looked as if he wanted to thunder the question but, mindful of the many others seated nearby, restrained himself.

  "Questions we can't answer," Briann replied. "If they exist, we can't do anything about them. And if they don't, why, we'd be wasting an awful lot of otherwise productive lifetime agonizing over them." He met the older man's gaze unflinchingly. "There are plenty of others willing to do the agonizing already, and we have no desire to intrude on their territory."

  Joseph turned apologetic. "You know that there are proposals being put forth to limit your activities."

  "Among my people, as well," Twikanrozex felt compelled to point out.

  Briann shrugged. "We don't spill time worrying about that. It's a matter for the legal logisticians. Twikanrozex and I, we're just two among many who have chosen to help spread the message." He sat forward. "Having been by our display, you know that everything about the Church is available for the asking. Why don't you try reading the first forty maxims or so and their antecedents?"

  Joseph replied with the confidence of the convicted. "I already have plenty to read, both religious and otherwise."

  Briann sighed resignedly. "Too bad. They'd give you a couple of good laughs. What is it you want from us? If it's simply to discuss theology and the economics of organized religion, we're happy to oblige you. If there's something more . . ."

  Father Jenakis looked as if he were about to rise from his seat. "We want you to shut down that infernal display of yours and stop trying to convert people! Especially young people."

  "But we have told you." Twikanrozex responded with a four-handed gesture of some directness. "We are not trying to convert anyone - much less anyone of a particular age. I must add that in this respect I have already encountered such a request. The fanciful situation to which you allude arouses even greater passions among my people, since our children are incapable of moving about on their own. There is much unreasoning talk of what you call, I believe, 'captive audiences.' "

  "Our display stays." Though still conventionally courteous, Briann's tone hardened slightly. "We have the permit, and as much right to exhibit as any other authorized vendor at this fair."

  "Vendor!" Father Jenakis shook his head slowly. "If you are willing to denigrate your own beliefs so freely, how can you expect others to take them seriously?"

  "We don't," Briann informed him. "That is, we don't expect others to do anything, except read what is on offer. And since we don't expect others to take us seriously, why should you? If we're going to, as you put it, denigrate our own beliefs, why should you take the trouble to do so when we're doing it for you?"

  "We told you," Joseph declared softly. "Because it's that very irreverence that appeals to intelligent youngsters. It intrigues them."

  "It also makes them laugh," Briann could not keep from pointing out. "Nothing like a lack of seriousness, of preaching, and of regulations to puzzle a clever kid. Where is it writ that a religious organization can't consecrate fun?" He shook his head. "I won't tell you from what particular theology I came to the United Church, but suffice to say I never could understand how making you continually feel bad was supposed to ultimately make you feel good." He folded his arms and radiated quiet contentment. "We have the same eventual end in mind as do you. We've simply chosen to follow a path that cuts out all that conflicting, confusing first step. We proceed directly to making people feel good."

  "You will be stopped." Father Jenakis was quite convinced. "Laws will be passed to prevent you from doing any more harm. Furthermore, people will soon begin to see through the insubstantialities of your clever but childish polemics. You are a fad, gentlemen. Nothing more. I feel sorry for you, and will pray for your souls."

  Briann maintained his maddening air of self-assurance. "As to the possibility of restrictive laws being used against us, Father, only time will tell. I can tell you that we have very good lawyers. As to people seeing through what the Church propounds, we intend that they do so. That's why we abjure complex dogma, and try to keep things simple. When they see through our maxims, we hope that on the other side they will find truth. That is all that we seek: truth and happiness. The former to gratify the mind, the latter to satisfy the soul. And we thank you for your offer to pray for us. We of the Church would never turn down such a benevolent offer. 'In a Universe vast with uncertainties, never turn down an offer of expiation, no matter what the source.' Maxim number sixty-eight, part four."

  The older man rose precipitously. "You people are impudent and shameless!"

  "I know," Briann admitted, "but it keeps us smiling."

  Jenakis looked like a man ready to begin a sermon. Thinking better of it, he reached down and put a hand on his younger associate
's shoulder. "Come, Father Joseph. We can do nothing more here. One cannot reason with harlequins."

  His expression rueful, the younger man rose. "I'm sorry. We can't help you if you won't let us. I will pray for you, too."

  "That's very kind of you." Leaning forward, Briann whispered conspiratorially, "Remember - all our literature is easily mollyed right from our display tower!" As the younger man turned to depart in the wake of his senior, Briann placed a thumb in each ear, raised his hands, and wagged his fingers at the retreating figures while simultaneously sticking out his tongue.

  Twikanrozex eyed him with interest. "That is a gesture I do not recognize from the Church canons."

  Looking content, Briann dropped his hands. "It's decidedly nontheological in origin. Among my people, an ancient and traditional folkloric form of farewell."

  "Very kinetic. Can you teach it to me?"

  Briann considered. "You have no ears to stick thumbs into, but your ability to make use of an extra pair of hands more than compensates. I think you'll do well with it - but you have to pick the operative situations carefully."

  "I know that you will instruct me properly." Twikanrozex shifted his lower abdomen on the padded straddle bench, eager to learn.

  Padre Briann proceeded to enlighten him.

  12

  A breathless Therese Holoness led Cullen Karasi and Pilwondepat out of camp and down the walking track that led to the primary excavation. Along the way they passed the location of several other smaller digs begun in the hopes of finding something interred in the hard-packed earth of the escarpment. Every one of these was deserted; tools powered down, water bottles set aside, laser grids shining unimpeded in the morning sun. When Pilwondepat remarked on the absence of workers, Holoness pointed ahead.