Profane

"...and when you cast your sight at the blue star, adorning the heavens beyond the rings of fire like a saphire on the forehead of a darkling queen, beg for mercy on bent knee. The verses and the eye, yea, the verses and the eye, they shall come down upon you in multitudes. and all was as is and is as ever and all will be forever. for you, however, there is but a stipulated time..."

- The Epistles of the Unseen, The Prophecies 1:365

let me tell you about our God, dear reader. we sail all around Him every year, you and i. on a boat in its rings of fire, we sail through eternity, pausing every now and then to wonder, to try and capture in sublime art what our conscious and mundane minds always invariably fail to articulate, and we sail on. we have, of course, always taught our children to be respectful. and we teach them many things besides, and that is our way and should be yours. and about the other pilgrims of the bejewled ocean, they know as much as we do; about our own circumambulation of the many ringed Mitus, of its significance, they know, as no doubt do you. to repsect its position, to be grateful for this life, for this unusual gift from the Unseen, they know, as do you. we sail through, under the shimmering diamonds stitched in the dark woven coverlet of the verses and the eye, and when light spreads we feel its warmth and are grateful, and so should you. and we were taught, and so now we teach, to be respectful, to be reverent.
sometimes i wonder if it's truly necessary; for who would not be in awe of Mitus? the Giant, the Vast, the Magnificent, the Beautiful, the Awesome, the Belittling, the Eternal Abode, Mitus. and yet the school men, who possess no souls, describe our situation in the following words, and i quote:
"we are inhabitants of a roughly spherical celestial body that revolves around a much larger one, which in turn revolves around the fiery sunne, the source of all life. we are, of course, not alone, as many others share our path, although no proof of life on these others has yet been found. we have reason to believe that beyond our world, there are many more in what is known as the starry ocean. there is not much reason to fear the stars, white or blue. they are simply rocks, gliding silently through endless space. they are our constant companions, no more, no less."
but the school men are few and nobody pays much heed to what they say. The Epistles of the Unseen are enough for us:
"have you not seen in the kindling light of the early morn, the form of Mitus' infinity spread out across the horizons, upholding the firmament, and you, immersed in its fiery rings, a sign manifest of the coming and going? and do you deny what your senses clamour to worship?"
Upon Mitus lives our Lord and watches over us Unseen. and what all will you deny dear reader? so repent!

- from the Holy Letters of Priast


Sarian awoke before dawn to the sounds of shuffling feet outside his house: the monks of the Priastine order, out to prepare the congregationals for early morning visitors. they shuffled their feet on the orange gravel purposefully to awaken light sleepers. it was part of their faith to do 'good' without knowing to whom it was done. most people were annoyed by the sounds of a half dozen feet scraping a path towards the congregational but to express annoyance aloud or otherwise was frowned upon, instead it was expected of them to check their primal urge, swallow discomfort, bless the monks and follow the pious train for pre-dawn worship. Sarian had only been half asleep, lying in wait for the sounds. once the shuffling became loud enough, he rolled out of bed, put on his robes and then headed out. "oh Mitus!" he whispered under his breath. he had forgotten to put on some of his leed-leaf fragrance, but it was too late now, and so continued down the path, mentally admonishing himself. the monks were some twenty yards ahead of him and a sweet scent pervaded the cold desert air in their wake. they were a clump of bowed heads shuffling in the distance, clad in dark green hooded robes, hiding their faces and maintaining the prescribed reverent anonymity that signified sincerity. every now and then a citizen in sober robes of morning dew, dripped out of his or her house, to swell the volume of the stream, flowing down to the congregational pool of piety. Sarian could easily identify a citizen from a monk by the former's sleepy gait and sundry robes of all colours and fashions.
the congregational was a large circular enclave surrounded by dunes capable of accomodating at least five thousand devouts. there was no roof but a temporary one used in times of rain, a waterproof tarp. there were 13 round elevated pedestals like sawed off tree stumps, one for each of Mitus' rings, and a monk stood on top of each, but they were six in all and so the remaining pillars were for those citizens who had outshone others in works of piety or social welfare. Sarian had stood on a pedestal twice in the course of his career but now he felt he might never again.
the worshippers gathered and stood in silent rows looking straight ahead as the sky lightened at the edges of a massive -incomprehensibly massive- circular form, painted it seemed, against the heavens. the sky lightened some more and Mitus became manifest. a vast, dark orb in the sky that required you to blink and look again no matter how many years it had been the backdrop of your existence. an old monk fell from his pedestal and wept. nobody moved. as the rings emerged from behind the veil of darkness, a shiver of veneration swept through the gathering. the day had begun. the monks prayed. those who could pray on their own, did so, others raised their arms in symbolic obeisance and allowed the monks to be their mouthpiece. Sarian prayed for himself and knew he had every reason to.
one by one the congregation began to leave. Sarian bit the back of his lip, scratched his nose, turned his head down as if ashamed to meet Mitus' eye and then felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. he closed his eyes and turned around.
"it is good to see you here of all places Sarian." said a tall, beady eyed man of about the same age as Sarian. his face was pointy and sarcastic. Sarian resisted the urge to break it with a punch. he was not, at such times, a man of many words.
"yes...here i am." replied Sarian laconically. ten minutes later all manner of witty comebacks would swirl around in his mind, goading him, reminding him of what might have been a small personal victory. staircase wit.
"well, i wish you the best. really! the boy...well, it's a shame, but imagine the progress! right then...see you in a couple of hours eh? stiff upper lip and all that." said the man pompously and moved on to rejoin his group. Sarian noticed that he had been adopted as a watchdog by the venerable Seed, one of the most influential elders on the panel of faith and justice and one of Sarian's old teachers. Seed had probably sent Fartuss, the beady eyed nuisance, to go inquire what Sarian was playing at, showing his face in public before the trial! something like this had never happened before, a trial of this sort that is, so nobody was sure how to respond. some people thought it was exciting, others felt it was a horror, and so everybody acted accordingly. Fartuss rejoined Seed and immediately began whispering fast. his demeanor betrayed a servile lack of self respect that sickened Sarian. the Venerable Seed glanced transiently at Sarian with the utmost ambivalence, then smiled at something his lackey said. both proceeded to leave the enclave while Sarian stood there imagining how different his life would be right now had he only brought his fist quick and hard into contact with Fartuss' ugly nose.
Sarian stepped out of the congregational enclave and tried to breathe in as much fresh air as he could. what if my lungs burst and i don't have to go through with this madness? he thought. what if...oh blah!
he walked back the way he had come, stepping precisely on the smooth snail trail left in the sand by the shuffling monks. it was a game he had come up with when he was a child, by way of leaving no record of having ever come back from the congregational. Mitus, if He went by footsteps alone, would be very pleased with my devotion. he stopped and looked at his surroundings. the shimmering light would get no more intense than it was now. this was Sarian's favourite season: cool, calm, peaceful, beautiful, when Mitus was just bright enough to be stared at directly. a light breeze shuffled bits of sand on the tops of the dunes and far away an orange haze surrounded the Priastory. he had spent the better part of his life there, studying, learning, thinking, being disappointed, thinking again, finding a way to compromise between what he knew to be and what was supposed to be. to the east, somewhere, lay the academy of the school men. he cursed his past, his foolishness, and walked back home to a final rest and to gather all his thoughts. if ever there had been a time when being able to articulate thoughts was critical, it was today. oh Mitus! he thought.
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"how much to the Monastery?" Sarian asked the carter. the cart was a small vehicle pulled by the carter himself. at a fair price, anybody could have a seat, except for the darklings, of course, who were usually employed for the pulling of it. but in this district such a ride would not get many offers and so the carters pulled their weight themselves.
"whatever you deem fair, noble sir." said the carter slyly. Sarian sighed and got aboard. it hardly matters, he thought, what will one more or less mean to me once this wicked day is done? and so the cart trundled along, bearing Sarian, all the way to the gates of the Monastery of Priast, or the Priastory, as it was more commonly known. he paid the carter who was very pleased with the payment, and then stopped at the gates. breathed deep, as if he wanted to store up a good lot of air before he had to go in where the air was diseased. upon his return from the congregational he had made his final decision. he was alone and there was no way out. the only option that was afforded him was between going down on his own terms or on Seed's. the choice was illusory, there really was just the one way to do it right and that was to do it wrong. another deep breath and he walked inside.
inside was another world: the grounds of the Priastory were one of the most fertile regions of the land; it was said, not untruthfully, that life for the city had originated here and from here it flowed outwards, nourishing body and soul. here a man played a hurdy gurdy, singing a song in his croaking voice, doing a simple two step jig, and there a man with a tam tam attracted a crowd of little boys and girls to his 'emporium of magik and wonderments.' closer to the periphery of the estate were the trade stalls: fruit venders, reptile meats, darkling slave girls brought from far away barbarian lands and much, much more. all sorts of noises, festive cheers, angry exclamations, "stop thief!" "leather boots!" "Mitus be pleased!" "sod off you cracker!" a rush of colour, life, incense, sweat, long-eared grundle-munchers roaming about dragging their leashes while panting boys ran around looking for them, and a lot else met Sarian and for a moment he was lost in the grandeur and commotion of life. he made his way through the crowds and only rarely made eye contact. people recognized his robes and parted. sand got in his sandles. a goat-like stoor tried to bite his thumb. by the by, he found himself in front of the great wooden doors that were flanked by two unarmed sentries. at that exact moment the doors opened half way and Melifulus the old linguist hobbled out to meet his erstwhile student.
"hello father." said Sarian by way of greeting.
"ha-ha! the prodigal son? yes? well, this is quite exciting isn't it? yes? come. come inside you foolish boy!" said the old man. Sarian was comforted by his jovial manner. it was obvious that old Melifulus had either not really understood the gravity of the situation (which was impossible) or that he had chosen to see the brighter side of things just to soothe Sarian's concievably taut nerves. Sarian appreciated the gesture. the master limped along the cool stone corridors with the student as together they made their way to the great hall, usually a place reserved for the evening repast but at this time specially furnished for the first-ever Heretic Trial. "i don't think they are serious about it," said Melifulus, as if continuing a conversation, "think about it. yes? there is no precedent for this sort of thing. i mean how do they expect us to take them seriously...and by they i mean Seed and his doppelgangers...for really they are but one mind in multiple bodies yes? or rather no mind at all. but wait and see. wait and see yes? would you like to wait in my room, yes? there is still some time before the proceedings and none of the panel are here at present. come." Melifulus led Sarian by the hand and passing straight through the great hall they went into one of the adjoining corridors where most of the teachers had their lodgings. "do you still teach father?" inquired Sarian as the old smell of books and stone and candelabras burning the musky air sent his mind reeling into a nostalgic spiral. "not so much as before, yes? but i still dabble in the arts every now and then. ah they don't make them as smart as they used to though, these new students, what a lot of lunk-heads they are. young, irreverant, and possibly addled. Mitus be pleased! how many times i just want to smack some sense into them. ah but you lot were different yes?" Melifulus stopped and put his hands up on both of Sarian's shoulders, surveying him proudly, sizing him up with the Sarian of his memory. Sarian was at least a head and a half taller than his master now who had shrunk beneath the burdens of age but the latter was no less sharp in mind than he used to be, and smilingly said, "a modicum of sense had somehow pervaded your doofy minds and that gave me something to work with. yes my child, you lot were wonderful...by comparison." Sarian could not help but laugh with his old master as he opened the door to his 'repository' as he liked to call it. it was still the same much the same, though now a bit more dusty. rolls of parchment were stacked in shelves that lined the walls and all sorts of languages marked the sheets; grammar charts and labeled diagrams hung from the low ceiling. there was a small rectangular slit in the upper right corner of the bend where the cieling met the wall, which served as a window, though it was not really. it was simply a hole in the floor of an upstairs room. each room had at least one of these holes, in case of emergencies, or for ventilation or communication, and spying and so on.
Sarian sat down on a stool and the old master sat on the side of his bed, both facing one another. Sarian wanted to tell his master how wrinkled he seemed, like dried meat and how his hair was like flakes of white ice -however much was left. "yes this was a bad idea was it not? sitting here gawking at one another," said Melifulus premptorily, "i mean i can see that you still have not learned the art of washing your face properly and i half feel the urge to scrub you myself yes?"
"yes sir," said Sarian half smiling and somewhat selfconscious of the state of his face now. "right so, i imagine you have a speech planned? yes? like old times? finally an occasion for you to shine and all that?"
"not so much father, that was Leonard's area of expertise. i was just there, always, admiring from the sidelines."
"oh...right...indeed!" said the old master with a slap to the forehead, "indeed it was Leonard who was the troublemaking orator. every week he would have something more disturbing to say yes? and for some reason, the final straw that broke the stoor's back came with his last speech...and after that speeches were banned forever. ha-ha! to be honest son, we were all admiring him from the sidelines. forgive my crumbling memory, the old castle in the head has lost another rampart, but wasn't he the one who..."
"died, yes father."
"yes? such a young boy. but you know: '...there is but a stipulated time...' and all that."
"er...about that father...it's been on my mind...the whole verse." said Sarian with the hopes of changing the subject.
"yes...old 1:365, it's always on everybody's mind. what about it though?"
"what do they mean, exactly, 'verses and the eye'?" he asked in an attempt at reviving an old, old debate.
"ha-ha! you know better than to ask me of all people! i'm a linguist, not a theologian yes? what do i know but that i don't. and yet from a linguist's point of view, it is a curious phrase. arbitrarily translated in my opinion from the original. but you already know all that. it is not a secret that it could have meant what it cannot possibly mean. it is absurd to believe that we, whilst we are being watched by our Lord, the while He keeps watch and a single gaze of His lasts a fortnight without a blink, should worry about the other meaning. there will be no Age of Darkness. there will be no tyrants ruling us. it is simply a poetic injunction, forbidding us, very wisely, to not sever ties with our roots. do not yearn for far off pleasures and profits or blue stars so to speak, when in the now and here your house is on fire."
"so they all say...but of course, it is very pertinent. i can only imagine in my most fearful nightmares what would happen if we find out that we were wrong. and in all honesty father, i am convinced that all the signs of the Age of Darkness are becoming evident. I am being falsely accused of murdering heresies!"
"yes well son, don't fret too much about it. it's absurd! i know. perhaps the panel only wishes to alarm you. it would set us at a great disadvantage if you were excommunicated. we are a literate people, we must prevent superstitions of the sort, not engender them. everyone knows that to rule in fear is to not rule at all but fear. be that as it may, however, enough of this, tell me, just so your mind is clear, what will you say to defend yourself?"
Sarian sighed, "i myself don't know the answer to that father. always, always at this juncture when it seems opportune to reveal exactly what is going on, i find out to my great distaste that i myself am not in the know anymore. however, i think, father, perhaps it is time. i must not be late. it would give the wrong impression."
"right...right you are. perhaps a good think will help clear a way through this mist." said Melifulus, a bit put out by his student's less than eager attitude towards volunteering information. but he slapped his thighs before getting on his feet all the same and led Sarian out of the room towards the great hall again.

the 13 members were seated behind the elevated bench, all dressed in dark green and black robes, signifying the grave, religious nature of their responsibility. the great hall had been similarly dressed up for the sombre occasion. black tapestries had been hung in front of the brighter ones to assert with finality that this event was not to be taken lightly. check your festive mood in the anteroom, it seemed to say. all the dinner tables had been removed to make room for more benches, as an audience had been requested by the inquisitors. Sarian was seated about ten feet away...ten very significant measures of length from the hooded inquisitors. he sat behind a small table with a roll of parchment in front of him. behind him, filling the many rows of benches, were all his teachers, senior members of the staff and those citizens who were considered important enough, whispering all to one another, sharing information, comparing analyses and hypotheses. less candles than was custom, burnt away as best they could, struggling against the immanent darkness. a door to Sarian's left opened and in walked Fartuss leading four young boys in his wake, students it seemed, who had excelled in their studies and were being honored thus by being allowed to observe the proceedings. Sarian felt annoyed. "just like a child," thought Sarian, "like a stoor with a bone." Fartuss smiled at the members of the audience and ushered his students to their seats, acting the mother hen and puffing up with pride, experiencing in his mind a great showcase moment. once they were all seated, the 13th member, who sat in the middle of the panel, coughed and a sentry with a roll of parchment stepped out of the shadows, walked to a spot halfway between Sarian and the inquisitors. there he stopped and looked at the panel for a sign of affirmation. the 13th member gave a curt nod and the sentry turned towards the audience, sucking in his breath for the performance.
"in the name of Mitus, the Lord, Watcher, Unseen and Eternal. this council meets today to determine the fate of one Sarian y Priastor, son of Priastor Quinn, accused of heresy..."
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Sarian disengaged from reality and sank into his own private thoughts. in this hall, two decades ago, Leonard had made a speech foreseeing a day just as this one. it was a time of great friction between the school men -whom Seed wished to dominate- and the Monks -who were letting Seed dominate. Leonard, who was equally fascinated by both ideas, could not keep himself from remaining silent at evening meal times, when it was customary for vocal students to give vent to their thoughts.

"don't they offend you, as they offend me? these people who claim to know exactly what they're talking about even though it's impossible to be so sure?" he addressed the students at large, his eyes red with inexplicable hatred. "yes, and yet i see the 13 commanding the floor, swaggering. looking down from the dizzying heights of self righteous, self glorifying, confidence to end all confidence. megalomaniacs, and liars who convince none but themselves and the foolish and both are but one. just a handful of motes in the grand scheme of things, declaring proudly their moteness, wearing it like a badge of honour, their shame. when we come of age and realize that there dwell here among us people who are consumed by a sickness far more contagious than mere ideas, will we be able to get past our differences. the academy will once again be a part of the monastery. and the choice will not be between monk or schoolmen, but how far are you willing to go in search of truth." and from this idyllic flight of fancy, he quickly returned to the grittiness of the real world, "but i see complaisance growing in your hearts like a cancer. i see a different future. i see an elaborate witchhunt. i see 13 reasons for the spread of a disease that will consume us all unless the epistles themselves come to life and intervene, and intervene they shall! The verses and the eye, yea, the verses and the eye, they shall come down upon you in multitudes. and all was as is and is as ever and all will be forever. for you, however, there is but a stipulated time..." his finger pointing at the very center of the panel of 13.
incensed by such blatant disrespect, the Venerable Seed rose from his place and taking great strides towards the young boy, slapped Leonard hard across the face with the back of his hand. the boy nearly shot out of his shoes at the force of it and yet when he fell back in the cutlery, the only noise apart from the echoing slap was the sound of his laughter. by this time the other members had left their seats to assuage the venerable Seed and create distance between him and Leonard; a distance which only grew over time till today it spanned light years but showed itself in no more than ten feet of length.
Leonard was sent on penance duty into the desert; his task was to collect certain special medicinal herbs. his body was found a week later, half eaten by the sand wights. he had been one of Seed's most special students till the incident and so a sham funeral was held in which the venerable Seed could make the best of it to project the image of a teacher encumbered forever by the responsibility of one who must for the sake of his students' own good, sometimes be strict. as a single tear streaked down his cheek, Sarian who had also attended the funeral assembly, felt a strong desire to vomit. Leonard had not known of Seed's private harem of darkling girls; he had not seen him murder them as he ravished them. he had obviously never confided in anyone for he never knew, but his oratorical outbursts had become a constant threat to Seed. thus where freedom of speech had once been the norm, a student's jaw was broken for uttering nothing uncommon, by a man who heard something else altogether, accusations and threats. Leonard had not been the one who had run off into the night screaming, while a startled Seed in mid-necrophiliac ecstasy had thrown off the dead body of a dark girl and grabbed his robes to follow the uninvited guest well into the night. he had been unable to find his witness but from that moment on had spent all evening meals in the great hall, surveying the masses for a sign of guilt, of hidden terror, but nothing extraordinary, beyond normal apprehension ever revealed itself to him in the faces of his students. he had been looking for the wrong signs. what he ought to have searched for was not fear but doubt, uncertainty.
Sarian left the Pristory taking with him guilt and an overwhelming sense of cowardice. for years he privately tutored the children of those who wished for their children to gain admission into the same Priastory where it had become cumbersome for him to breathe and felt miserable. those who feel remorse are doubly unhappy, he would say to himself, and then continue to blame himself for Leonard's death.
"...you stand here accused of heresy for the following violations of our immutable code," announced the sentry, bringing Sarian back to reality, "you have misused the powers vested in you by the Priastory in conducting an illegal marriage ceremony, which resulted in obvious disaster. you joined in holy matrimony two individuals: one Caroe Seal, a student of this Priastory and the other a darkling female of unknown origin without the consent of the 13. knowing full well the nature of these barbarians, you allowed for such a travesty to occur. and within the first month of said marriage, the darkling whore breached contract, consorted with various lewd and fallen men of our own race as well as hers as is the wont of her kind, eventually meeting her demise through violence, as was no doubt her just and deserved fate. your action brought great suffering upon young Caroe Seal, who in his madness took his own sacred life by dagger's edge. your heresy, that of performing illegal rites of marriage, against all known canons of the divine faith have culminated in a disgraced and sinful death for Caroe Seal whose soul's abomination lies upon your head and incomparable anguish for the Seal family and for whose loss there can be no retribution. the prescribed punishment for the atonement of your sins, if possible, is set at excommunication till death. how do you plead?"
Sarian stared at the parchment on his table. and again the scene of the great hall dissolved into nothingness; memory took its place.

when the boy had returned to Sarian a month later with the body of his darkling bride in his arms, he had been then too at a loss for words. the boy had not wept, had not raged against the powers that be, had been quiet. "they have taken my wife." he said and left with the request that Sarian see to it that she be buried. but he had turned at the doorstep and reaching into his pocket brought forth a gemstone of a furious blue. "i found her with this; someone had adorned her forehead with it. adorned! a saphire for my darkling queen..." he choked on his words but in a chilling monotone continued, "the universe has laughed at me tonight Sarian. Mitus has gone blind." with trembling hands he passed the saphire to Sarian. he who had seen once before the workings of a diseased mind, identified the signature immediately. and once the boy had been swallowed by the darkness, he arranged for the girl's burial, paying off the gravediggers for their silence, though he knew it mattered not. done with that responsibility, he returned home and paced his room till dawn, fingering the accursed tell-tale saphire, weighing the pros and cons of what he planned to do. with his mind set on rashness, with an old and unforgotten anger, screaming unsatisfied to tear through his soul, he procured an envelope, stuffed the saphire in and addressing it to the Venerable Seed, ordered a peasant to deliver it post-haste. meanwhile, unexpectedly for Sarian who had not seen it coming, news spread of Caroe's suicide and the note that accompanied it, confessing to the falling in love, to the marrying and to the meaninglessness of life stripped out of someone so beautiful so easily and how it was merely a commentary on the blindness of Mitus. the blasphemy only made Sarian's situation worse. half the people who heard of it expected a great spectacle, the other half were mortified and scandalized. the Venerable Seed easily realized the threat implied by the silent saphire. obviously that fool Leonard must have talked! an investigation was conducted, which brought the blame of this calamity on Sarian's head. Sarian knew what it would all come down to: his word against the noblest of the elders. nothing could save him but the Epistles themselves coming to life...


"how do you plead?" repeated the sentry.

Sarian smiled, "on my hands and knees usually." the sentry looked baffled.

"this is no joke young man," said a hooded inquisitor in Seed's voice, "and i suggest you not be flippant about it. Mitus Himself watches you."

"Mitus is blind." whispered Sarian.

"Silence!" yelled Seed, drawing back his hood, "you see? all of you gathered here in this house of Mitus? this blaspheming heretic? this is insufferable...i move for excommunication effective immediately and may his contaminating shade be removed from among us before the vile stench of his soullessness chokes us all. those in favour?" the entire panel raised their arms, as did most members of the audience, whose votes did not mean much either way. "by unanimous decision, Sarian son of Quinn," shouted Seed, his jowls aquiver and his thin grey hair dishevelled, "you are hereby excommunicated! may you be damned in this life and the next and may your coming and your going be a curse unto you. let no man speak to you by word of mouth, nor house you, nor give you any material comfort of any kind. you are not one of us. may the eternal flames of the 13 rings rip your being to nothingness."

Sarian laughed and shouted back, quoting the Epistles: "and will you punish the just? then let it be so, for the price of meekness is such. but Mitus will avert His gaze from you and your foul companions. and from that day onwards all shall dwell in Darkness and when you cast your sight at the blue star, adorning the heavens beyond the rings of fire..."

"TAKE HIM AWAY!" screamed the Venerable Seed. and a dozen sentries appeared from the corners of the great hall.

"...like a saphire on the forehead of a darkling queen, beg for mercy on bent knee. The verses and the eye, yea, the verses and the eye, they shall come down upon you in multitudes." Sarian resisted the sentries efforts; for once he was in his element, shouting joyfully above the noisy crowd.

"SILENCE HIM!"

"and all was as is and is as ever and all will be forever. for you, however, there is but a stipulated time..."

a sentry -or perhaps it was Fartuss- knocked Sarian out and all was silence while he dreamt of having at least, finally, said what he had wanted to, and of realizing the joy of seeing the immediate effect of his words when his words were cleverly chosen. in his dreams he was congratulated by Leonard.
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"there are distinct stages in the development of a civilization. one such is the medieval stage. this is the one most conducive to subjugation. you will encounter this particular stage on Titan when you land. and you will identify it with the level of fanaticism in vogue there. the highest form of education will be of the most dogmatic type, based on ambiguous statements found within a 'sacred' text, which we provided at an earlier date when the process was not as refined as it is now. however, barring all that and keeping our focus steady on the objective, we must understand only that which is to be done and not question the intelligence of our own ancestors. it is only through trial and error that we have learnt what we have, and we do not pass judgement. these sacred texts, which were used to inculcate within the colonized species a means of developing questionably vague moralities and ethics and a code of behavior were always meant to provide for and pave the way to a medieval setting, in which an aristocratic elite discovers that it can exploit others unquestioned by anyone, and then proceeds to do so. this level of exploitation may vary, as according to our calculations the medieval stage on Titan is now only in its infancy.
our ancestors left detailed instructions as to how this problem is to be approached. you will find within your standard issued kits a manual detailing the exact procedure from which under no circumstances will you deviate...you may find a group given to opposition, to independant thought, you will destroy all of them except one that will be brought back for scientific scrutiny..."

- excerpt from lectures addressed to the Titan expedition.


let me tell you about our objective, dear reader. we have sailed the starry heavens in search of Truth, the source of Goodness, and the Immanent for millenia uncounted. How we have searched for God and for how long, who knows, not i. we have searched for God and fought and survived and are here still remaining to answer the question that has plagued us since the time we developed the faculty of thought. we have searched for God and found only Ourselves. we have discovered what was always obvious. we are it. we are alone, certainly, but we are the masters of this universe. and that is as should be. and like any God, it is our will that we be recognized and revered and feared and worshipped. and you ask, why not let machines do this worshipping? and the answer is simple: machines do not possess a 'free will' the way organic beings do. the pleasure is entirely different, unique. a pleasure we demand and desire. and though there will be many such species in the future who look to us for guidance, we have begun the cultivation of our worshippers with the primitive and bestial life we spawned on Titan. Titan was and must still be and remain always beautiful and unique for its very atmosphere clamoured to worship us when we arrived. and here we found the environment most conducive for the fulfilment of our will. all that was needed was a spark of creation. armed with the knowledge that we now possess of ourselves and know to be the only knowledge there is, we allowed for life to occur a second time. we were chance, it is true, but Titan is intelligent design. our will was done. though my life as an individual is ephemeral but as i live on in these written words, i am immortal in my race, in my species. together we are God. i have no doubt that what we planned was carried out with the utmost care and to the last detail perfected. and so when the time is right, we will return to reap the harvest on Titan. i was fortunate enough to be the one who had the honour of overseeing this feat of human greatness. and yet it is with great sadness that i admit i will not live long enough to witness the event whereby man becomes God and the circle is completed. i remember clearly when i planted the seeds of life on that happy surface that i was at a loss for words. there was no text suitable to be quoted at that occasion. i knew not what to do. my mind searched in vain for words that could express the joy of creation and the sense of infinite power that i experienced in that moment. finally my mind rested on a phrase that had been lingering in the margins of human consciousness, waiting to be reclaimed, to be returned from whence it had come. and as i planted the final seeds of life and as dawn broke all around me in all its limitless glory, i whispered to the universe: "let there be light!"
- From the Scientific Journal of Captain Feodor Priast, (Leader of the Huygens Project)


Salieri awoke before dawn to the sounds of shuffling feet. his team was already up and ready it seemed for another batch of classes. treading in their heavy boots outside his cabin.
"will this nonsense never end?" wondered captain Salieri as tedium set in. "just let us go and get your damn slaves once and for all." he muttered as he tried to fall asleep again. eventually however, the classes were all over, as were the exercises, the drills and the trial runs. it was now time for him to lead his men, his ships, his species, onwards to immortality, to divinity. it was the moment he had been dreaming of since his childhood. he would go round up all the Titanians and bring them back, awestruck, to a life of servitude, for which they themselves will volunteer, weeping and wailing for an opportunity to serve. that is, if what the books say is accurate and nothing has gone wrong. idle fears. silly. we have monitored them since forever. we know exactly how they think and what they want. we have implanted within their minds the concept of our divinity. there is nothing to fear.
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it was a still night and Mitus was shrouded in darkness. it seemed full well that he had averted is gaze after all. Sarian sat alone on top of a dune weeping beneath the twinkling face of a blue star. it had hit him finally, the full implication of what he had done. i have set a precedent! cleared the way for others to be persecuted like me. but then was i not in the right? he could not say with certainty. maybe he ought to have at least tried to prevent it, prevent the onset of the Age of Darkness but that would have been impossible. how can you be so sure when you never tried? are you serious? how could it have worked with that beast on the panel...oh Mitus. stop saying that, you know it means nothing. you are only angry. and you are a fool! weeping beneath the blue star, he begged for mercy. he knew not from who, but that he hoped for intervention...


and quite suddenly, his internal dialogue was interrupted by strange lights that appeared in the sky. lights that grew in size, more and more. they were blue and there was a noise, like the shuddering of the land that accompanied this strange phenomenon. Askari, the astrologer was the first to run screaming out of his house while Sarian watched in amazement. large orbs, shaped like eyes, the size of the congregational enclave, were descending upon the city. and the sound of the Epistles of the Unseen being sung in holy raptures issued forth from the eye-like orbs. by the time dawn had broken, almost all the school men had been burnt to death by the vengeful gods. the monks of the Priastory were all prostrating before the illuminating orbs and shrieking like mad men. Seed had jumped from the roof of the Priastory and lay splattered in the sand. the citizens were celebrating the coming of the gods. all was a chaotic mix of intense fear and joy, hope and despair.
by midday all was settled and the entire population of Titan was being herded into the ships. Other ships had descended in other areas of the globe but all were being directed by one Captain Salieri. the Captain was soon informed of a mad catatonic situated on the top of a dune and so Sarian was brought to the Captain.
Sarian was convinced he had gone mad. strange god-like, angels (?) had turned everything upside down in the course of one very short day. "Are you...God?" asked Sarian, and Salieri looked him up and down and then with a majestic laugh that can only be the property of a divine, he answered in Sarian's own tongue, "yes. I am your God." and Sarian fell down upon his knees and kissed his standard issued astronaut boots.