Springingtiger's Blog


Chapter 32:We Need A Rethink!
December 3, 2016, 00:09
Filed under: Politics, Religion, Technology, Travel, Writing | Tags: ,

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The techies replaced the lid immediately. Everyone looked surprised, but such was my vehemence even the archaeologists didn’t try and stop me. Later Eva asked me what had happened and I told her. For now I merely told them that the giant in the box was was the creator of the Shoggoths and that it was not safe for any of us to allow him to wake. Despite my misgivings the archaeologists were determined to conduct an exhaustive examination of the site. Eva and I went back to Obamapolis when it was time to collect more supplies and equipment for a prolonged stay.

Back in the Capital everyone was agog for news about the site. Because it was impossible to get a comms signal in the ‘Valley of the Kings’ as the archaeologists had nicknamed the site the reports from the site were intermittent as each one meant a substantial walk before the broadcaster could start transmitting. I was leaving the studios after being interviewed when I encountered the Bishop. As he questioned me about the site I thought I might be able to enlist his help in getting the dig closed, so I mentioned to him that the site told the story of the creation of Humankind and offered to show him. He accepted and I would have added his name to the other dignitaries who were to visit, but I invited him instead to come back with me and the supplies.

A couple of days later before I left I received a price for Roddenberry a twelve digit number. I agreed the price, and gave a list of the things I thought should be included.

Shepherd Cain was as excited as a young boy. I spent the journey telling him the bare bones of my story with one exception, but it was a big one. Needless to say he asked all the usual questions and I answered many, others I told him would have to wait until we reached the Valley of the Kings.

As the Bishop and I made our way on foot or more accurately I, on foot and he, on a mule. The construction workers we had brought with us were beginning to make the track navigable for All Terrain Vehicles. As we headed towards the ridge we were followed by the noise of saws and bulldozers as the path was widened. It occurred to me that if the archaeologists weren’t going to lave well alone they might be glad of a quick exit.

When I took Simeon Cane into the now well lit tunnels to the ‘tomb’ he was fascinated by the reliefs on the walls. We looked into some of the smaller rooms where one of the team – not an archaeologist – but a zoologist – told us that what we had thought were stone tables seemed to be dissecting or embalming tables as evidenced by a drain with space for a portable receptacle. That an alien scientist was lying in stasis in the middle of his laboratory was a thought that gave me no comfort whatsoever.

In the tomb the lifting gear was still attached to the closed box. Simeon asked what it was, I replied,

“All in good time. First I want you to look at the frieze.” I conducted him around the frieze from the picture of Earth with a man and a woman standing on it, past the various events many of which appeared to be accounts of terraforming at a level we could only dream of. However it was possible that many of the planets we were able to adapt for settlement had once been terraformed by the occupant of the box. We came to the statue of the bearded giant with the man and woman on one side and the Shoggoth, the hybrid Shoggoth/Man and a man emerging from cauldron.

“Is that you?” Asked Simeon peering closely.

“It would appear so.” I replied “And these are my mother and father.” I pointed to the other figures.

“And this?” asked Simeon, indicating the huge central figure.

“The creator of Adam and Eve, you probably call him God or by some name. I call him Grandfather. He’s the one who genetically manipulated my curse, he is the creator of the Shoggoth and who knows what other creatures. Some of the things on these friezes are probably the fruits of his experiments.”

“Are you telling me he existed, a mere creature?” Demanded the Bishop.

“Oh not a ‘mere creature’. If he was seen as a god it’s because to all intents and purposes he was one. Not the only one, but powerful beyond human comprehension” I replied.

“It’s impossible!” He declared, “Its blasphemy! How dare you? How could you? God is omnipotent, universal!”

“Not this one.” I said, bluntly.

“No you’re wrong, you must be wrong!”

I looked him in the eye and asked,

“Whatever did you think ‘Let us make man in our own image, in the likeness of ourselves’ meant?” I continued, “God created man in the image in the image of himself, in the image of God he created him, male and female he created them.”

Tears were running down his face as he sank to his knees. I felt sorry for him.

“Simeon, look at me!”

He raised his face and I spoke to him again. “There is nothing wrong with your faith, but this is not your God. Yes we gave rise to the myths from which your faith grew, but your faith evolved. If you look at the old religions of the Old Gods they were brutal and thrived on violence and blood, but like the believers the religions evolved…to an extent anyway. As you rose above the old barbarism you created a god in your own image, a reflection of the perfection to which you aspired. Unfortunately you poured your new wine into old skins” I pointed to the box, “My Grandfather –lying in this stasis chamber – is the old skin. Don’t pour your faith into him. The best thing you can do is to convince people to fill this chamber with concrete so that he can never spread his cruelty again through the universe!”

Even as I spoke I understood that what I condemned as cruelty was not; it was curiosity and a need for affection. The Old Gods had left when they no longer had the adulation of their creatures. Who knew where they had gone – the McGuinness twins believed they had returned whence they came somewhere in deep space. A more worrying question was why was my Grandfather here, in stasis.

I could tell from the expression on Simeon’s face that he was not going to help me have the chamber sealed and so I said to him,

“Whatever we do we need to understand why he is here. Perhaps there is a clue somewhere among all these carvings. You need to understand what will happen should he awaken.”

He was still kneeling looking dazed and so I added,

“This is too much to take in so quickly, I am sorry.”

Eventually he managed to compose himself. We sat quietly, alone. The others had mysteriously left us alone – humans can be sensitive. At last he asked,

“May I see him?”

I operated the hoist so that the Bishop could look at the origin of his religion. He looked at the face of the Old God and then at the statue, back to the sleeper. I closed the box.

We sat in silence my arm around his shoulders. We sat in silence for a long time and I wondered if perhaps I had been too cruel in exposing him to all this.
“Perhaps you should.” I said, “Think of him, not as God, but more like a prophet. At the very least you now know that there is substance to the stories people have dismissed as mere myths.”

“I’m not sure that’s a comfort.” He gave a sad smile. The smile broadened. “This may shake up the faith, but it’s going to hit the followers of Dawkinism even harder.” He began to laugh, “God is real, we found his body!”

I worried that he might turn hysterical, but he calmed down and after a few moments said, “We’re all going have to rethink everything we know.”

“From Earth via Keppler and every colony, the scientists have been following a God in whom most of them didn’t believe.” I added.

It’s going to be all right, isn’t it?” He asked.

“It usually is in the end,” I assured him,” But I’d still be inclined not to wake him. Certainly not before you understand all these,” I waved towards the frieze, “And examined every inch of these tunnels!”

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