A Long Time Until Now (73 page)

“Is everyone who looks androgynous like that?”

“No, that is a personal lifestyle choice. Forgive me. You deserve answers, as far as I can and am allowed to give them. But we don’t generally ask such things of strangers here. Privacy is scarce in many ways, so we cherish what there is. However, I’ll answer as much as I can as a diplomatic courtesy.”

“So are there Africans, or people with African ancestry here?” Armand asked.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “Few, but present. We do not divide ourselves along those lines, and there is no reason for any animosity.”

He was still sure she was hiding something.

“Thank you,” he said.

After a week, they settled into a dull routine. Richard Dalton hated it. They could watch any number of movies or TV, read books, or sit and talk. There were board games, Xbox, pretty much any recreation from their time seemed to be available.

After two years in purgatory, they were novelties, but everyone was rusty at games and had to learn over again.

For himself, a lot of it just didn’t seem to matter anymore. He’d rather work or talk to people. Those were what mattered.

He held service on Sunday and almost everyone attended. Even Spencer lurked in back.

They sat at the dinner table and he read from Job 38.

“Bored, Sergeant?” he asked afterward.

Spencer said, “Partly. But you can be a very motivational speaker. You should pursue it.”

“You think so?”

“You kept several of our people in good spirits during this. Really. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

“Thanks, Sergeant.”

“You’re welcome. I hope it can be ‘Martin’ sometime.”

“Time for pancakes,” Barker said. “And bacon.”

Wheat was so awesome when you didn’t have it for two years.

“A timeless combination.” He said. “I do miss the acorn pancakes.”

Barker pointed at the table. “Yeah, but I ordered vanilla buckwheat with honey and peaches.”

“Damn. Awesome.”

The food here was always perfect, every time, and still managed to be unique every time.

“Is the food prepared by hand?” he asked.

Attendant said, “Some is. The rest is automated, but, there are algorithms to allow variation across a spectrum. You can request adjustments or select a particular variation by referencing it.”

The contrast was extreme, between whatever one could hunt and find in the vagaries of nature, or whatever one chose from an infinite selection. This was easier, but he wasn’t sure the other wasn’t better for the soul.

Cal hovered around, waiting for the humans to toss him bits of something. He was fond of ham and bacon, and was convinced lamb was caracal candy. He brushed against Rich’s legs. Rich tossed a bit of bacon down, and the cat snatched it with a protective growl.

Somehow, the facility-cleaning bots managed to take care of the cat piss and turd deposits. Rich wasn’t sure where the cat went, but it was probably in spots to mark territory, and was never visible.

He thought back to the food. It was an interesting moral lesson. He’d been in the wilds of God’s world for two years, living by the sweat of his brow. Now he was inside a cocoon that could provide anything without effort.

That afternoon, Researcher Alexian Twine returned. She was dressed in a coverall that had flowing legs, no sleeves and was V-necked. That was strangely hot.

“Richard,” she asked, “may we discuss your faith with you?”

“Of course!” he said. Did they still have Christianity?

“Thank you. Your interpretation of Scripture will be most welcome.”

“Don’t you have records?”

“Yes, but few from nonscholars, and a personal interaction is always a sociological desideratum.”

He retrieved his Bible, well worn and sagging as it was. He would certainly get another copy at home, but this one was special and would be with him for life. Its Word had given him so much solace in the last two years.

A bubble formed around them, with several of the morphing couches. He sat upright for this. It didn’t seem respectful to Witness from a sprawl.

Twine was joined by Ed Ruj in those snug shorts, and two other people. Mas Johns was short by the standards here, only about six foot, and wiry lean in spandex or something similar atop what looked like mundane jeans. Gella Xing was more Asian than anyone he’d met so far, with a lot of Chinese ancestry. She was striking, with her height. She was at least 5’10”. She wore a long, flowing skirt and a layered lace top. They all took seats and stayed upright.

Ed said, “I see you brought your Bible. It’s been well used.”

“It kept me alive for two years, whenever I felt depressed, frustrated, lost.”

“Excellent. I’m glad it worked for you.”

“Are you Christian?”

Twine said, “None of us are, but we’ve read and studied the major religions of your era. Christianity does still exist, if you are curious. There is much philosophy and lifestyle now, but not many people practice actual religions.”

“Okay. Then what can I tell you?”

“What does it mean to you?”

He thought for a moment. Obviously Christ had not returned in their time, or they wouldn’t need him.

He chose several passages, and found them in seconds from familiarity, he’d thumbed this book so often.

He decided to start with the basics, of Isaiah 53:3-7.

He was despised and rejected by mankind,

a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.

Like one from whom people hide their faces

he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.

⁴
Surely he took up our pain

and bore our suffering,

yet we considered him punished by God,

stricken by him, and afflicted.

⁵
But he was pierced for our transgressions,

he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,

and by his wounds we are healed.

⁶
We all, like sheep, have gone astray,

each of us has turned to our own way;

and the Lord has laid on him

the iniquity of us all.

⁷
He was oppressed and afflicted,

yet he did not open his mouth;

he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,

and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,

so he did not open his mouth.

He continued with John 3:16, Corinthians 1:15. They paid attention, their faces showing interest, but they weren’t moved.

That was fine. Not every seed found soil.

Seed! Matthew 17:20.

He quoted it. “He replied, ‘Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.’”

Xing asked, “What does that mean to you?”

He took a deep breath.

“We had no idea what had happened, or where we were. Then we found we were lost, with no way home at all.

“The Word of God kept me calm. I knew that with faith, I would find first comfort, then the solution God wanted me to have. It might not be my solution, but it would be one I could handle. God only gives us what we can survive, as a challenge to our spirit. I embraced it and accepted it. I sang His praises, and trusted for an outcome. And it was better than I could have hoped. I learned to appreciate the plants, the animals, the weather as I never had. And then I was brought here.”

Twine asked, “Did you speak to God or Christ?”

“Not directly,” he said. “God moves one through clues, hints, in the dead silence. Late night on watch was a time to meditate, and I knew what was intended, and followed.”

They all stared at each other for a moment.

“Interesting,” Xing said. “That’s different from now.”

He’d gathered that.

“Can you tell me what’s changed?” he asked.

“No one here is so literal,” she said. “It’s und—taken to be metaphor. Parables and motivation.”

“Metaphor? God is real, and Christ will return.”

They said nothing, only blinked.

A moment later, Twine said, “That will be fascinating when or if it happens. Certainly worth studying.”

She obviously had no idea what to say and was trying to be polite, in her detached, scientific manner.

Xing said, “So you’re expecting Christ to return.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know when?”

Sigh. These were such basic, aggravating questions, but he must have patience.

“I don’t. No one does. The point is to live every day as if judgment will be upon you, to strive to be better.”

“That makes sense. But do you need Christ to do that? Can’t you just make the decision to be your best?”

“Of course,” he said. “But Christ isn’t the reason. Christ is the cause and the reward.”

Ruj said, “The reward is everlasting life and peace.”

“Yes!”

They sat for a moment, swapping glances and expressions, obviously communicating. He suspected the house or their glasses or both were almost telepathic.

Xing asked, “What date do you assign to the beginning of things?”

“One researcher estimated four thousand and four BC, by our calendar.”

She said, “But you were thousands of years before that. The Gadorth were before that, and you were twice as far back.”

“I’m told that’s true, but it contradicts what I know.”

“What you know . . .” she was silent.

He shrugged. “All I can do is pray for guidance. Obviously we’ve misinterpreted in my time. But it was created. God told us so.”

“I respect your determination,” she said, with a serious face. “Thank you very much for sharing your beliefs.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, but he wasn’t sure he felt it.

He was escorted to the edge of the area, almost like a prisoner, even though he was in the same room and had nowhere to go otherwise. He wanted to be alone for the walk.

Back near the table, the others greeted him.

“How was it, Rich?” Barker asked.

“Interesting?” asked Caswell.

“They were laughing at me,” he blurted.

Elliott asked, “They don’t have religion at all?”

“Nothing like ours. They say they have Christians, but they don’t accept Genesis, or the Gospels, the Resurrection. It’s some watered down philosophy.”

Gina said, “Ah, like fluffy bunny pagans.”

“How’s that?”

“Some, a lot, of pagans pick and choose what is convenient so they never actually have to work.”

He remembered her saying that before. “I don’t think it’s that. I think they use it as a guiding principle. But they don’t believe it as real, only as philosophy.”

“That must be hard on you,” Caswell said. “I don’t like that myself.”

He shrugged, shook his head, went to the table and said, “Attendant, can I get a roast beef and cheese with horseradish?”

“Is that a sandwich?”

“Yes, on French bread, please.”

“Medium rare for the beef?”

“Thanks.”

The others left him alone, with sound screens set up while they gamed or watched movies. He chewed his sandwich and thought.

It was undisputable that God had created the world, made it, put them here, sent them back, and brought them forward. He’d learned much about people and himself.

It seemed that the farther one was from nature, the harder it was to accept and believe. That made sense. The Amish worked with that.

While he pondered, Spencer came over, and entered the area. He saw, then heard as the bubble was breeched.

“Hey, Rich.”

“Sergeant.”

“I need to give you some advice.”

“Okay.” He wondered what this was going to be.

“Son, you’ve just had a fight with your beliefs and the real world. You know I don’t believe anything of what you do.”

“I know. Neither do they. Are you going to tell me you told me so and to give up?”

Spencer shook his head and pointed a finger.

“No. I’m going to tell you you must not do that. That faith kept you strong. It kept you sane. It helped your friends and compatriots. No matter what you hear from me, from the Cogi, or from anyone else, I’m telling you you must hang onto that faith. It’s part of what you are.

“Over time you’ll probably refine and change your beliefs, but I’ll be very unhappy if you abandon them. If your god is real, this is yet another test of your faith, character and strength.

“I have every confidence in you.”

Ripples and chills went down his spine.

“Thank you . . . Martin.”

“You’re welcome. It’s a privilege to serve with someone of your character.”

He hoped Spencer would leave before he teared up.

“Thanks. I need to be alone to think.”

“Certainly. And well done.”

Spencer rose and walked back out to his couch.

Damn.

God truly did work in awesome ways.