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“There do not seem to be a great deal of manual labor requirements here. Regardless, you are welcome to as many drones as you feel the need.” Terse and I were surveying a plateau near the ocean. The crew had collectively decided it would be the prime location for our new settlement. “There is ample excavation equipment available if you do not have, or need, additional. We are very impressed with the ingenuity of your engineers in creating equipment out of existing components of your ship,” he concluded.
“Actually, it’s the other way around,” I corrected. “We designed the ship using pieces of excavation equipment and building systems. Even the drive system was designed as over a hundred discrete power units. We can reconfigure them as generators, hydraulic pumps, or whatever other machinery we need to power. There are even four flyers planned to help in scouting and moving large or bulky objects. The perpetual-motion machine will be a consistent source of energy which will meet all our needs for at least the next fifty years.”
“That is one of the many things which we admire about you humans. You tend to make a situation fit your needs, rather than you fitting the situation.” Terse shook his head. “I have asked Central Service to permit me permanent residence as ambassador to your fledgling colony. If you shall have me, of course,” he finished softly.
“Well, for two guys who did their best to get off on the wrong foot, I think we make quite the pair,” I said. “I’ll discuss it with our council but I currently see no reason why not.” There was something else I wanted to say, but felt I was in uncharted waters.
“Terse, the four crew members who’ve assimilated.” He looked at me expectantly. “They tell me there is no concept of God in your culture.”
“Yes, I was wondering when you would get to this part,” he replied. “I cannot tell you if there ever was a religion on this planet, or for The People. There is no evidence of it in all the archives; even those not available to the population.”
Yes, there are secret documents in every society, I am afraid,” he said ruefully, catching my startled expression. “Every society must have some secrets from the populace. There are certain things they simply would not benefit from knowing. Unless the Ancients decided to program religion out of existence, there has never been such a concept on our world,” he finished.
“So, where do you think your soul goes when your body dies?” I asked.
“Oh, dear Joacim, our bodies do not die,” he smiled in exasperation. “I really thought you would have figured this out by now. Many eons ago, before the Enlightenment, we used to burn our dead on funeral pyres. Such a terrible waste of resources, but we simply had no way of preserving them and no knowledge of the reason to do so.”
“Even further back, before statehoods began, some tribal peoples held ceremonies for the Wang.” He paused as if considering his next statement. “I believe Tracy refers to it as the planet’s energy. In some obscure way, it seems to have been related to what you refer to as the Cardinal directions. The references in the archives are but mere footnotes, so this is really all I know.”
“Okay then, give me a minute,” I pleaded. “That was information overload. That last may be some tie-in to the origins of Gaia on our planet. Do the archives say anything about ceremonies for the seasons? What are the seasons here? Several of your technicians have told my crew that Central Service controls the weather? How is that possible?”
“Now it is my turn to be overloaded,” he replied gently. “One point at a time please, if we may? Yes, there is reference to seasonal ceremonies but they fell out of practice long before the Enlightenment. Our scientists learned not only how to control the weather but to turn it into a weapon.”
He paused and that pained look I was becoming familiar with passed again across his face. “Much of the damage done to the population centers of the distant past was accomplished by fierce storms of wind and water. Now the weather is only adjusted if it presents a possible threat. Rains are scheduled every two weeks, usually after dark when many have retired. Some of The People actually enjoy exposing themselves to rainfall, although I for one cannot comprehend it. If cleansing is needed, the pools are available.”
“Okay, back to my original topic, but thank you for the education.” I hoped he felt my sincerity and didn’t think me flippant. Along with many other emotional variations, I wasn’t sure sarcasm was a part of their make-up either. “If you don’t die, but you just get tired of living, what do you do? Where do you go? Which begs the question; where do they get the raw materials for the body blanks?”
Terse was waiting patiently but my head was starting to hurt. “And...?” he said.
“Oh, my God!” I screamed it, and others spun toward me, weapons at the ready. “It’s okay, I’m fine,” I said, waving them off. Turning back to Terse, I said, “You actually recycle people?”
“You said it yourself, where do we get the raw materials?” Terse sounded pleased.
“So, are you after further colonists for the raw materials?” I asked, recoiling at the repugnancy of the idea and prepared to call off any such process involving additional humans. My mind raced as I fought not to demand he leave the compound immediately.
“Joacim, seriously? Of course not, that would simply be barbaric,” Terse scolded. “We buffer and supplement whatever materials are donated by the retiring citizen and store it until needed for the rare occasion when someone is critically injured or even accidentally destroyed. When that happens, we start them over from the last update the system has for them. Which is usually within an hour or two, ten at the most.”
“So, when someone willingly donates their body and retires, what happens to that which you call their essence?” I asked again.
“Is that not obvious by now?” Terse asked in his scolding voice again. I wasn’t meeting the teacher’s expectations. “We are permanently deleted from the system.”
“My question still remains,” I repeated. “Where does your soul go?”
“I am afraid there is no translation in our language for that word,” he said.
“So what is it you think makes one individual different from the next?” I insisted. “What part of them creates their individuality, their will?”
“Individuals are a sum of their experiences and education,” Terse responded in his reading-the-script voice.
“Now you sound like a 21st century psychologist,” I chided him.
“Oh, and what did 21st century psychologists have to say?” he replied, sounding piqued.
“They were fond of saying every individual personality was a product of their experiences and biology. There was even a pseudo-science which believed that if you knew enough about a person’s background, you could accurately predict their every action,” I said.
“One hundred years ago, law enforcement profilers used that premise to catch the smarter-than-average criminals. Most law breakers naturally gave themselves away due to their own stupidity. But that theory was disproven when the genes for radical thinking, intuition, and spatial cognition were discovered in the mid-21st century. They also were found not to account for conscience or character.” I realized as I finished that it sounded like I was in lecture mode.
“Alright then, what do you say is responsible for sentient beings have personality, character, will, and conscience?” Terse asked suspiciously.
“That which God gave us to be able to count us individually and account for our lives,” I readily replied. “Our souls.”
“You have used that term several times, but I have no translation for it,” he replied, sounding exasperated.
“It’s the spark of the Creator. That which gives us access to the Creator. The part by which we acknowledge being made in His image.” His blank expression had me stumped. How to explain it in non-religious terms? “It’s the power which drives the universe,” I blurted in a moment of insight.
“The creator of the Minsa was our ancestors,” he replied.
“Then who created your ancestors?” I followed.
“Our ancestors evolved from lower life forms,” he replied.
“And who created the lower life forms?” I persisted.
“They evolved over the millennia from the primordial morass, every citizen knows this data,” he was getting vexed.
“Bear with me a while longer if you would, please,” I coaxed. “Where did the primordial morass originate?”
“Scientific speculation says it occurred when enough primordial matter from the creation of the universe coalesced in one place,” Terse replied in full lecture mode. “Does your race not have this basic knowledge? How could you possibly have made it this far into interstellar exploration if you do not comprehend the creation of the universe and quantum mechanics?”
“I’ve had this same discussion with what we call atheists many times. These are people who reject the concept of a higher power or authority. It always ends the same way,” I smiled. “So, where did the primordial matter for the creation of the universe come from? Who created the universe?” I asked, pleased I had kept him engaged this long.
“There is no explanation for the creation of the universe, that is indecipherable. The universe just is,” he replied, now quite cross with me.
“Very well, accepting the universe as a given, what drives the universe to motion? What power causes its expansion and contraction?” I asked, knowing he was now looking in my consciousness for the answer. Good, let him look.
“So, your race believes the power which drives the universe, that which just is,” he spoke emphatically. “That is what you refer to as God? A sentient being? If it is sentient, how does one communicate with it? Why has it not contacted us?”
“Let me answer your question this way. When we first arrived, you spoke to us in Mandarin. Why?” I was building my case.
“It is the most commonly spoken language on your planet, of course,” he replied.
“So, you’ve been monitoring our planet?” I asked. He nodded. “For how long?”
“Nearly 500 years,” he replied.
“And why haven’t you reached out to us; ever? Why wait until we approached you now?” I continued.
“To assure you were ready for the contact, otherwise your more primitive ancestors might have considered us...to be...” He faltered.
“Gods?” I finished for him. “And the manner in which we communicate with God has been the same for thousands of years, although the rituals have changed many times,” I finished.
“Mental beseeching, sacrifices, rituals, prayers and supplications; yes, we have observed these for centuries,” he muttered to himself. Shaking his head as if waking from a bad dream or vision, Terse stood fully erect and looked me straight in the eye. “And has God ever answered you?” he asked.
“I personally feel like God answers me every day,” I replied.