Godship

Just then Susan appeared at the door.

  "Gordon! Come on!" she shouted. "The descent is about to begin!"

  Part 11.3

  There was a rather large crowd in a room with a panoramic window onto the outside world. The sun was just setting in the west and the room glowed crimson. I hadn't seen a sunset in months and it was spectacular. The Aquarians hadn't seen a sunset in their lifetime, so it was exceptionally spectacular for them. I sat on a bench beside Susan. David was nowhere to be seen, but Hudson was sitting at the next bench. I noticed that Lucas hadn't followed us.

  With agonizing slowness, the Aquadome descended into the ocean, the water line creeping up the window until all one could see was fish and what looked like frolicking sea lions. It was a nice feeling to know that, although everything on land had been consumed by the solar holocaust, much of what lived in the sea survived.

  The scene became quite dark with only bioluminescent creatures visible. It took about a half-hour to settle on the ocean floor. Hudson turned and said that Aquarius was especially designed to sit horizontal on uneven surfaces. Its underside was flexible, pliable and would adapt perfectly to the contours of the ocean floor. The final bump when we landed was almost unnoticeable. Hudson rose to say something to the people, then collapsed.

  "Hudson!" Susan cried, rushing to his side. A crowd gathered. Everyone recognized the science supervisor, someone talked into a com-device and soon a paramedic crew arrived. They lifted Hudson onto a stretcher and carried him off. He didn't move. We all feared the worst.

  Later we learned that Hudson had died. He had lived much longer than the average Aquarian, but his death was still a great loss since he was still mentally agile and spoke often to Aquarians, explaining such things as the evolution of oceanic life and the history of the natural world.

  When we asked Shatoya about the funeral arrangements, she said there was no special event in the case of a death. There would eventually be a video exhibition of Hudson's life and a celebration of his achievements, but no funeral. Susan asked what happened to the body. Shatoya paused for several seconds and mumbled 'anthropophagy', almost apologetically. I turned to Susan who just shrugged her shoulders.

  Later we learned from Gill that Aquarians had learned not to waste high quality protein and Hudson would be incorporated into Aquadome foodstuff, especially because human flesh has a favorable amino acid profile. Only diseased individuals were discarded, through a tube which exited the side of the dome. I made a mental note to avoid eating in the dome. All future meals would be in Uruk…except, of course, for rapple.

  Part 11.4

  Shortly after we landed on the ocean floor, there was an announcement over the dome-wide audio system. Excursions to the coast were being arranged and anyone wishing to join should register at the Permission Desk. Susan, David, Gill and I immediately headed in that direction. To be once again on land? That was a delicious thought. The lineup at the Desk was huge. Hundreds of people, eager to see land, to walk on land, to feel it, smell it, taste it. I'd never seen so many happy faces. Over half were children who had clearly heard of land but had little notion of what it was like. I could hear them asking a parent, but the responses were less than elegant.

  "It can be painful," I heard. "Hot and painful. Sometimes it shakes and sometimes it splits and you can fall into a crack. It can also burn you and volcanoes are everywhere."

  Obviously the stories of the solar disaster was being described in school, the volcanic activity, the earthquakes and roasting of the land surface. I assumed that now, centuries later, it was calm and cool on the surface. I was about to explain that to some of the children when Susan punched me in the side. Damn! That hurt!

  "Let them be surprised," Susan said in a whisper. "Let them be astonished, overwhelmed. It'll be something the children will keep with them the rest of their life."

  Susan was right, of course. She usually was. Maybe I just wanted to show off, a little display of knowledge that Aquarians didn't have. We went to the back of the line.

  Several parents watched us go to the rear and beckoned us to come forward. One parent pointed to the front of the line where other parents were waving at us. We walked to the front and they made room for us.

  "I guess we're special," I said.

  "You are," Susan said. "Your speech on the Founder was video-broadcast throughout the dome. Your face is recognizable everywhere. They're calling you 'the aboriginal'. In fact, some people mistook Gill for you. That disturbed Gill a lot. Even his gills were agitated." Susan giggled.

  We were each given a curious helmet that fit poorly over our head, with tubes that attached to a soft bag hanging from our back. Then we passed through a tube and entered a vessel of sorts through a partition in its side. We all stood as the partition closed, the tube collapsed and our vessel pushed away from the side of the Aquadome. There were about a dozen of us. I only recognized David and Susan. In a few minutes we bobbed to the surface and I could see blue sky and fluffy white clouds. It was a welcome sight. The vessel was made of clear plastic-like material and the outside world was visible to all. I expected a surface maneuver that'd take us to the shoreline and I wasn't disappointed. In fact, it seemed we were scarcely skimming the surface.

  "I'm surprised they had these vehicles ready for this trip," I said to Susan. "How'd they know so far in advance?"

  The fellow next to me said, "They're fishing vessels–fish and algae collectors. See the claws at the front?" He pointed to the front of the ship. "They've never been used for this particular purpose, going to land."

  It took less than a half hour to reach the shore and our vessel just pushed its way onto a sandy beach. Actually, with the front-mounted claws, it was more like we were pulled to the beach. The children on board were jumping with excitement. I must admit that I was just as excited. When the ship came to a stop the partition slid open and several children fell in a scramble to get out. When I finally left the small ship, the children were hopping and skipping and throwing wet sand at each other. They each wore the curious helmet, but a parent pulled out some hand-held device, waved it in the air then removed the helmets from the kids. Assuming the air had been tested as safe, I did likewise, letting the clumsy bag on my back slide to the ground. I took in a great breath of air and it felt good, salty and moist but very good.

  "Look at the mountains," Susan said, pointing. I turned and saw a coastal range of mountains, snow capped and covered with green growth almost to the top.

  "Let's go," she said and started jogging toward the nearby hills. She was clearly in better shape than I because my legs were heavy after just a few minutes. I hadn't exercised in some time and it felt like it.

  "Smell the air," Susan said, stopping and sitting on a rock. "See this rock? Covered in moss, lichens and fungi. The Earth has recovered!" She was ecstatic.

  I sat beside her as David walked up the incline to our rock. He stood and I could see that he was pleased with what he saw.

  "It's quite remarkable," he said, "that, just a couple of centuries after almost total disaster, this land could have recovered so well. I expect to see a small rodent peeking out from behind a tree or at least a frog or two. After all, frogs could have sought refuge in the water."

  David sat and we three just ran our eyes across the splendid landscape. Somewhat farther up the slope was the start of a wooded area.

  "Looks like conifers," I said. "I read somewhere that their seeds can survive a forest fire. And aspens, I think."

  We just sat there admiring the view. I think we could have stayed for hours. After months in a confined space, it was delightful. Then something moved at the edge of the forest. Susan jumped to her feet. "Did you see that?" she shouted. "There was a movement, I'm certain."

  David got up and began walking toward the woods. Susan jumped up to follow. I was hesitant. Did we know for sure what kind of creature would survive a solar holocaust? Would it be dangerous? Would it be friendly?

  "C'mon Gordie," Susan said. "I think it wa
s pretty small. It could hardly be dangerous. I suspect it'll be afraid of us. Let's go."

  When we got to the first trees, we saw that they were conifers, but stunted. Susan stopped and gazed into the woods. It was quite dark and the ground was covered in moss and ferns and olive-colored grass. There was no sign of life, nothing was moving.

  David stepped into the shadow of the nearest tree.

  "Follow me, Susan," he said. He obviously didn't mean for me to follow, but I did anyway. Susan was stepping gingerly over the ground plants as though she didn't want to damage them. That didn't bother me; I just barged right through. David stopped and cocked his head. He must have heard something–then so did I. It sounded like a very human grunt. We all stopped to look about and saw the thing beyond a stand of tall grass. It was perhaps one and a half meters tall and very dark skinned. It immediately vanished into the long grass.

  "Humanoid," David said. "Perhaps pygmoid."

  "Pygmies, in America?" Susan asked.

  "Perhaps the genetic result of the holocaust, smaller, more adaptable to limited resources."

  "We should find him," Susan said, clearly excited by the prospect. She began to run to the tall grass and David followed. I waited just for a moment–then I joined them. I wasn't sure this was a good idea. I read about pygmies that were cannibals. It was bad enough that Aquarians ate their dead, but pygmies probably didn't care that I wasn't yet dead.

  After about twenty minutes of combing through the grass, we gave up. If there were pygmies here, we should let them be. Congratulations on surviving the holocaust and all that, but we must be on our way. When we returned to the beach, there were hundred of people swimming–in the nude! Susan pushed me into the plastic vessel before I had a chance to observe their swimming style. This was, for sure, the very first time Aquarians had been able to swim in the ocean and it would be interesting to see how they'd cope. However, sharp pokes in my side and I was inside the vessel, ready to return to Aquarius. The walls of the vessel were perfectly transparent, of course, but Susan pushed me onto a bench beside David and pointed at the ceiling. I looked. There was nothing to see except blue sky. I looked at David. He was grinning ear to ear as our boat slipped into the water.

  Gill and Lucas were there to greet us when we left the vessel through the tubular partition and entered Aquarius.

  "Did you see the dwarfs?" Gill asked. "Uruk said that dwarfism was manifest after the holocaust and their breeding habits were in part responsible for their durability–along with minor genetic intervention by Godships. There was already a small colony of dwarfs in what was once California. They were shunned by many so they established themselves in rather elaborate caves. Indeed, by the time of the solar holocaust, most non-standard humans had disassociated themselves from common society. Many of the cave dwelling dwarfs survived the solar catastrophe and now live in the forests of Southern California. There are other humans, non-pygmy humans, but they still don't associate with dwarfs. In any case, the population here on the coast is very small."

  "So God intervened, is that right?" I asked.

  David smiled. "Gordon, my boy, you must know by now that holy intervention occurs rarely and only to assist evolutionary development. You saw that kind of guidance with the beetles, on our way here. In fact, I can now report that those very same beetles have developed the mental competence necessary to survive the modified environment that was created for them. They will flourish. That should make you proud."

  I could barely remember the beetles–and I certainly didn’t feel any pride.

  Part 11.5

  Lucas took my hand and led me to a corner of the receiving room.

  "The video that we were to watch… of Old Earth, it's been replaced by a memorial video for Hudson. That's this evening. Would you like to join me? I must make a speech, for the old man, someone who was very special to me. He has had a good existence and we must now celebrate his life."

  "Yes, of course," I said, even though I hated funerals. "When will his body be…uh, consumed?"

  Lucas looked confused. "Consumed? What do you mean?"

  "I was led to believe that his body would somehow be incorporated into Aquarius food."

  "Yes, assimilation. We will all benefit from his amino acids. Various cells are extracted for the cell bank, T cells from bone marrow, other lymphocytes, a gene map is generated, memory scans are made…"

  "Then you eat what's left?" I said in my most nauseated voice.

  Lucas stared at me with a curious look. "Does that bother you?" he asked. "Remember that we live in a closed environment. We do eat whatever flesh we can extract from the sea about us, but the only animals that we breed are humans. Do you think that is an amoral practice?" He paused for a moment, then squinted. "It is said that, in your time, you actually raised animals specifically to kill them to eat their flesh. It is said that there were eating establishments on every street corner that specialized in the production and distribution of such dead animal food products. Isn't it true that you had animal pets that were fed with the flesh of other, killed animals? It is said that entire animals were slaughtered for just a fragment of their body parts, just a horn or just a fin or just some internal organ. You were there. Is that true?"

  "Well, yes, but everybody did it and there were never any objections. Something as common as eating steak was an acceptable…"

  "And the only animal that you didn't eat?"

  "We certainly didn’t eat each other!" I said, almost shouting.

  Lucas turned and walked away. I could see he was upset. I saw a bench and sat down to think. So what was wrong with recycling humans? Was it a religious thing? Here, in Aquarius, they didn't kill people, they just incorporated their protein into the foodstuff. If that was abhorrent to us, then maybe we're too limited in our world view. There were other eating habits that I found abhorrent, when I lived on Old Earth. Eating bugs, caterpillars, insects, ant larvae, fish eyeballs, bull's penis, internal organs, tongue, beef testicles, sausage meat wrapped in intestines. I can also remember disgusting social customs, certain sexual practices, genital mutilation, late term abortions, organized rape, gross gender inequality–yet there were many who found these acceptable, indeed laudable. I think that religious thinking was influential and, of course, tradition, always tradition. The Aquarians have probably been eating human flesh for centuries. That, too, is tradition.

  "Gordon? Is that you?" It was Susan. "What on earth are you doing, sitting there by yourself?"

  "I'm thinking. Do you think that eating old man Hudson is okay?" I asked.

  "Come with me," she said, ignoring my question. "There's a memorial service you should attend."

  I sat with Susan, David and Gill, near the back of the auditorium. Shatoya was introducing Lucas. There was a large image of Hudson as a young man on the screen. Lucas began talking, but I wasn't listening. The images changed as he spoke, but I was deep in thought. Was life on Old Earth so great? Were our traditions the finest that man could muster? There were wars, racism, ethnic cleansing. I remembered a few lines from a poem, a Lord's Lament, that bemoaned human characteristics:

  He forged a world to suit his need.

  He ravaged land and sea.

  He failed to find the seemly path

  He earned the Earth's befitting wrath.

  The Earth's befitting wrath? Was the solar holocaust such an event? I was now in a society that seemed to have developed social skills suitable for a sealed environment. Here, at the bottom of the ocean, births needed to be approved in order to avoid exponential growth in population, no money changed hands, people were trained for specific employment, healthcare was freely given to all. There were no rich, no poor, no unemployment and no wars. Every hallway had a path for joggers, and it seemed that every Aquarian jogged from place to place; they were healthy. Crime seemed to be nonexistent. People got along. There was always laughter. There seemed to be very little racial discrimination–Lucas was the exception. Black, yellow, white, brown; every skin col
or was here.

  Government was not like the old social democracies with its vacuous promises, ludicrous and expensive campaigns, mud slinging, corruption and money grabbing–at taxpayers expense. Here in Aquarius, every person's life was recorded on massive data banks, every life event, every endeavor, every sickness, every speech, education, interest, idiosyncrasy, hobby. Leaders were chosen by computer, using an algorithm that incorporated all the information in the data bank–and that mechanism had apparently worked well for over a century.

  Hudson was over eighty when he died. I couldn't understand why life expectancy was low and decreasing. They all seemed so healthy. So, should I complain about life in this Aquadome? Was our environment, our traditions on Old Earth, really better?

  Lucas had finished talking and now the sequence of images became a moving picture show, with Hudson as a child, in classes, giving a lecture, in a lab. The music was not funereal, but rather upbeat. This was a celebration, like the old funeral celebrations I read about in New Orleans. The audience began clapping and chanting. I could barely make out the words. I saw Susan smile; she understood.

  Your soul to rest in the ocean wide

  Your body is ours to keep inside

  We cherish the memories legion

  Sustained by the ocean tide.

  'Keep inside'? Did that mean what I thought it meant? I reminded myself to have my meals in the Godship. Pork burgers… without butchering a pig. No pig? How did they do that?

  Part 11.6

  We had been on Aquarius for little more than a week and I was getting to feel confined. There were other excursions to the shore, but no small people were seen and the monotony of the landscape was depressing. I couldn't understand why I'd feel that way, since every Godship enclosure was like every other and Aquarius was little better.

  "When do we go back to our Godship?" I asked David one morning over breakfast. We were having bacon and eggs and toast and coffee, in Uruk. It was delicious and I never once thought of the origin of the animal products, especially unborn chickens.

  "Gilgamesh is gone," David said, sipping a mug of black coffee. "It left several days ago to assist in the move of Aquarius Atlantica."