“There are a few formalities,” Tananius-Ofo said. “And you won’t simply be ‘God.’ I’ll dub thee ‘McGod.’”
McMurtrey smiled, stiffly. He still didn’t feel any different.
“I’m glad you’re the one, McMurtrey. You’ve been my first choice since I decided to transfer power.”
“Could I still back out?” McMurtrey felt railroaded, as if the people in the room with him had been conscripted by God to deceive him. Were they all conspirators? Kelly too? At least one or two others should have wanted to become God! But no matter the answer to any of this, McMurtrey had no real thought of reversing his decision. He needed a challenge like this, felt he could handle it as well as anyone else.
“No way out now,” God said tersely. “That’s it. You have to do it. Just kidding. Sure, you can change your mind any time you feel like it. But I don’t think you will. If I thought you would, if I thought you weren’t qualified for the position, I wouldn’t tell you the trade secrets I’m about to reveal to you. After I take a little rest, for this has been most wearisome, you and I will enter the Crystal Library for the Power Transfer Ceremony.”
When God awoke from a brief nap, he took McMurtrey aside, into a very large side-chamber. Behind them, the way they had entered closed noiselessly, into apparently solid rock. This left no visible way out, which McMurtrey found unsettling.
“You’ll have to reopen it yourself,” God said. “You’d better hope I show you how before I drop dead!” He chuckled.
The chamber was lined floor to ceiling with shelved books, of a most unusual variety. They appeared to be of clear prismatic glass and were very large, with pages of black print visible through crystal covers that threw lovely spectrums of blue light around the room. The spine of each book was at least the height of McMurtrey, and he struggled to read the titles. They appeared to be in Unglish, but he was too flustered to focus. One volume lay open on a white-rock table at the center of the room.
“You’ve come a long way for a guy who used to run around with a chicken on your shoulder,” God said.
McMurtrey smiled.
“These are the greatest books in the universe,” God explained, “culled from the minds of men and gods to form my incomparable Crystal Library. These are composite God- and human-channeled editions, created in much the same way that I assisted you to create the fleet of ships. Throughout my career I channeled the thoughts of the greatest minds, bringing their words to these volumes—as ideas change, words and pages change. Sometimes I do it with the consent of the contributor and sometimes I just do it. Whatever it takes to get the information.”
“Are Gluons involved here?” McMurtrey asked. “I mean, didn’t we channel images onto the Gluon Shusher, impregnating the Gluon with matter?”
“The book materials are impregnated onto cousins of the Gluons,” God said, “known as Sools. Unfortunately, Gluons like to travel too much, and that would never do here. They’re inveterate tourists, so library books would forever be missing, off in some distant quadrant of the universe!”
“I can understand how you’d feel that way.”
“I know you’re afraid of what’s about to happen, Evander, but wash away your fear and accept this. It is said that we fear most what we least understand. Come forth, understand and fear no more.”
McMurtrey was told to stand over the table and read the first chapter of the book there. He did this, while Tananius-Ofo climbed a librarian’s ladder slowly, sat at the top and looked on. The black-etched words on each page should have been difficult to read, since the pages were clear and vitreous, but a foggy haze appeared beneath the top page’s words the moment McMurtrey began reading, a haziness that made the proper words stand out in clear relief.
He felt like a trainee assigned to read a training manual, but did not complain.
As he reached the end of each right-hand page, the page turned automatically, and as he became immersed in the contents of the volume, the pages turned faster and faster.
“This is incredible,” McMurtrey kept saying. “Absolutely incredible. I can’t believe this! Wow!”
In a very short time he completed the chapter and gazed up at Tananius-Ofo.
The old man sitting atop the ladder had his chin resting on his hands, and looked impish. He beamed at McMurtrey. “Now you understand the basics of godmanship,” he said. “The way of miracles, transmitting voice across the universe, how to defend against attack, how to attack if necessary, how to shape-shift planetary materials. None of it is that complicated, and I believe you are a quick study. Of course you’ll need to practice the techniques, for every god soon learns that ‘practice makes better.’”
“I’d like to try something simple to begin with,” McMurtrey said, “but I didn’t see how to do it. If I wanted to bring something here from across the universe—nothing large or complex—uhh, say my pet chicken from D’Urth—how would I do that?”
“Chapter Three,” God said. “For a cargo that small, may I recommend a tiny oxygen-saturated bubble impregnated on a baby Gluon?”
“There are other ways of doing it?”
“Countless ways! Permit me to demonstrate this one?”
“Please do,” McMurtrey said.
“I only wish I had the time or energy to demonstrate every technique for you, but I’m not up to it. Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up anyway.”
Tananius-Ofo climbed down the ladder arthritically, and when he reached the floor he began turning his body around and around. Faster and faster he went, spinning until his features could no longer be seen and he was a beautiful, whirling blue groundflower, flashing white and silver.
Like a spinning top, he spun around the room, circled McMurtrey and then zeroed in on McMurtrey and spun wildly toward him. McMurtrey tried to get out of the way, but God’s mellifluous voice called to Him, “Fear not, McGod! Come forth, understand and fear no more!”
Now McMurtrey went awhirling in the blue ball, and he learned the arcane way of transporting No Name across the universe. For an instant McMurtrey expanded in a brilliant supernova and became all living things that had ever existed or ever would exist. One cell from the Organism of Mankind—a boy living in St. Charles Beach—took No Name to the bubble and placed the chicken inside.
“Life is not composed of segments, as seen by the parochial observer,” McGod said, his first pronouncement: “All life, all time and all events comprise a single unfolding day.”
“It is so,” Tananius-Ofo said.
“I see that life forms are not what they appear to be,” McGod said, to God emeritus. “They are not sacks of skin. The multidimensional sensory images transmitted from one to another are false, and this is a problem I must face one day.”
“High energy,” Tananius-Ofo said, “that is the key to survival and is, as well, the means of destruction. High energy created the first elements of life, the inchoate god-forms.”
“And that first spark, was it caused by an excess of matter over antimatter?” McGod asked.
“Perhaps you will discover the secret one day. I never did. Funny, it’s like the war-mobilized nations of old D’Urth. No matter how technologically advanced a nation became, there always seemed to emerge a nation with something new, something more deadly. So it is in the cosmos. No matter how much a god knows, there is always the unknown, inevitably a god or other life form out there that knows more. Thus you must remain on constant vigil, never letting your defenses down, always searching for the newest, latest piece of knowledge. Nothing is final.”
“Continuing education?”
“You expected easy?”
“No, but it makes me tired just thinking about it,” McGod said.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Tananius-Ofo replied. His voice betrayed great relief .
When Tananius-Ofo and McGod emerged from the spinning groundflower, McGod smelled sweetness, as though a spring D’Urth breeze were blowing across flower blossoms. He breathed deeply, felt the calmness of eternity.
; McGod felt perfect. Ahead lay a long, long lifetime of work, of learning, of teaching, and he felt equal to the challenge.
Just imagine how good this job will look on my resume, he thought. Prior employment: God of the Universe, Yeah!
“I don’t know how to read your mind yet,” McGod said. “Even if I did, I don’t know that I’d presume to do so. Tell me, please, did you put the idea of a Cosmic Chicken in my mind? Did you pull a little prank on me with that?” One edge of his mouth curled up, the precursor of a smile.
“With all due respect, I’ve answered all the questions I agreed to. Life is the sorting of priorities and acting upon those decisions. I have something to say that is more important than the answer to your question. Forgive the impertinence of an old man. It is this: Even in the midst of contentious gods and other life forms that you will learn about, beware most the D’Urthian Bureau of Loyalty. One day you may have to do something about them.”
“I will study the matter.”
“As my successor, McGod, I hope you’ll keep what I started essentially in place, that you’ll promote my programs.”
“I assume I’ll develop plenty of my own programs too.”
Tananius-Ofo appeared dismayed. “Yes, such is your right. But before you toss out anything I’ve done, study it in detail. All my reasons are documented in the crystal volumes. My thoughts are here beside those of the greatest minds who ever lived, for I was one of the great thinkers. Don’t listen to my enemies, for their motives are impure! Even the form of man and the modified net-tongue form I selected were carefully thought-out decisions.”
“I won’t do anything hastily,” McGod assured him.
“An associated caveat: The longer you remain in the first godform chosen after assuming the mantle of godship, the more difficult it will be for you to change to anything else. So if you select a nonhuman form for yourself, or even a modified human form, be prepared to stick with that decision. It is called the Persistence of Godform, and is one of the Lost Secrets held by rival gods. They may try to use it against you as they tried against me, offering to allow you to change form in exchange for some or all of your god powers.”
“How long do I have before I must decide?”
Tananius-Ofo touched the open volume on the table. “Read Chapter Two,” he said.
In his reading of the first chapter, McGod learned the secret of planetary shape-shifting, and he employed this technique to reopen the doorway of the chamber.
“Nicely done,” Tananius-Ofo said.
They emerged from the chamber arm-in-arm, approached the waiting D’Urthians.
“It’s done,” McGod said. He told them his new name, and they smiled with him, ever so gently so as not to offend.
“You look the same,” Corona said. “I expected you to glow or something. Your skin is even peach-pink, not the gray of Tananius-Ofo.”
“He’s much younger,” Tananius-Ofo said, with a broad, gummy smile. “Now into the ship and let’s—”
Tananius-Ofo slumped, and McGod held him up for a moment before lowering him gently to the floor. The old man’s eyes flashed in twin white sparks, then became blue and dead, staring into eternity.
“T.O.!” McGod exclaimed “Oh, no, I don’t know how to save him! I must learn, I must learn!”
He ran back to the Crystal Library, flipped wildly through the pages of the volume on the table. It was all a blur. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t see anything he needed. “Was it in one of the other volumes? Might it be one of the Lost Secrets, in enemy hands?”
Corona was at his side, and she placed an arm over his shoulder. “He wouldn’t want you to bring him back,” she said.
“Long live McGod,” Harley Gutan said, from the other chamber.
McGod sat on the floor and wept openly. “I’m terrified,” he said. “I have so much to learn.”
Chapter 14
People see what they want to see, just as they believe what they want to believe, no matter the mountains of contradictory evidence before them.
—From The Autobiography of
Tananius-Ofo
At McGod’s instruction, Yakkai and Gutan carried Tananius-Ofo to the Empire couch, where the body was laid down gently and covered with the royal blue robe. There Tananius-Ofo would repose until the new Leader of the Universe determined how best to dispose of his predecessor’s remains.
“Now I must ask you to leave for D’Urth,” McGod said. “There is much work for me to do in the Crystal Library.”
All bade goodbye and good will to McGod, and he wished them a safe journey. “I’m going to find the section on Omniscience,” McGod said, “and after that will come Omnipotence. Thus will I watch over you and care for you on your return flight.”
“You’re starting to sound godly,” Corona remarked, with a caring smile. “I can tell you have a sense about yourself now, a new feeling of confidence. I’m proud of you!”
“Thank you, Kelly.”
McGod felt himself detaching from Corona, as if he were cloistering himself. It didn’t have to be that way, for Tananius-Ofo had mentioned his own weakness for women, albeit without telling whether he had acted upon such urgings. The information might be in the great library, in journal or diary form. McGod envisioned himself creating copious files on himself, for he was an important person now and there would be all the time in the universe to make it just right.
McGod wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t gloss over the historical documentation, for that would be a most unseemly thing to do. But he didn’t think he wanted to be perfect, either. Tananius-Ofo hadn’t made himself flawless, and somewhere in the library were the reasons for this.
If I’m to be imperfect, in what way should it be? A tiny lie here and there in the Journal of McGod? What about that idea of a harem? Maybe wanting to be perfect, and the very act of becoming perfect, are imperfections per se. What curious thoughts!
“May I kiss you goodbye?” Corona asked. She was near him, having approached while he was deep in thought. The old proclivity for daydreaming hadn’t changed yet.
“What? Oh, yes, go ahead.” He leaned down, allowed her to peck him on the cheek.
McGod felt like hugging her, felt like telling her how much he still loved her, that he would give all this up instantly in favor of her. But he couldn’t do that, couldn’t leave the shop empty. Never again could he concern himself with personal happiness.
But hadn’t he chosen this position in order to be happy? Why had he volunteered? It had been an impulsive decision, he realized, and in the wake of it McGod didn’t know the answer to his own questions. This struck him as simultaneously frightening and funny. He still had questions to ask of God.
Corona and the others were entering the passageway to leave, waving, and part of McGod wanted to run after them, to be just like them. He turned away, and when he looked back they were gone.
The small party of travelers stood at the entrance to the caverns, with Makanji in the lead, surveying the ledge.
“It’s impassable,” he said. “A section of ledge has fallen away—must be where Jin fell.”
They took turns surveying the ledge, and all agreed that they could not reach the ship. Just as they were about to return to McGod for help, the ship came to life, and in a smooth whir of noise it extricated itself from the cliff face where it had been perched. It flew the short distance to Corona and the others, secured itself to a new spot on the ledge, and positioned its ramp for easy access.
All passed over the ramp into the ship, except Corona, who lingered at the cavern entrance.
“Let’s go!” Appy’s voice blared, across the ship’s P.A. system. “No way to recover lost time!”
“I’m staying!” Corona shouted. She swept one arm across her body, indicating they should take off.
With hardly a moment’s hesitation, Shusher’s ramp was withdrawn and the pomegranate-shaped ship rose toward the white sky, bouncing a high-pitched whine off the cliff walls. There were faces in the windows, and
waving hands.
She found him in the Crystal Library, leaning over a huge crystal book spread open upon the table.
“We’ve some redecorating to do on this planet,” Corona said.
The startled look on McGod’s face indicated he hadn’t yet learned the secret of Omniscience.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” he said, in a scolding tone. But she could tell he was glad to see her.
“Neither are you!” she retorted.
They laughed, the first good laugh of McGod’s new reign, and McGod heard the laughter carry through the caverns of his. It was a good thing, laughter, cutting as it did through the colorlessness of the place. But Tananius-Ofo had a reason for making his planet this way. Somewhere in the library . . .
“Are you going to declare Cosmic Chickenhood the official, one and only religion?” she asked.
“I’ll have to think about that.”
Corona glided effortlessly across the floor, as if in a magical dream, and they embraced.
“I have some rough thoughts, a radical concept,” he said. “Tons of details to work out. I’d like to reprogram mankind to nonviolence. I think the answer may be tied in with biocomputers, with Gutan’s experiences and with the work of Professor Pelter on Mnemo. It’s linked as well with D’Urth’s BOL and their work on cyberoos. Somehow I’ve got to break through the BOL cloak and find good people in that organization who will help me. There must be some good ones there, and if there are, I’ll find them.”
“Maybe it’s like a computer programming problem,” Corona said. “I have some experience with that. The human brain needs to be erased or deprogrammed. Maybe we could come up with new pathways for electrochemical impulses to follow.”
“Just think of it, Kelly! A new and wonderful human being, one who acts lovingly to everyone. Humanity becomes a beautiful collective life force that enhances all living things around it. For the first time, harmony between man and environment.”
“We’ll figure it out, darling.”
He looked at her, smiled. “We will, eh?”
The Race for God Page 32
