Coyote Horizon

by Allen Steele

  “They’ve all lost faith in God?” Cosenza raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “No, no.” Rice shook his head. “They still believe in the Lord. It’s our interpretation of Him that they no longer accept. The very presence of the hjadd was evidence of…”

  He let out his breath as an expansive sigh. “Forgive me, Deacon, but I began to play down certain aspects of our faith. Instead of insisting that Man is alone in the universe, I emphasized that we are the Lord’s chosen people and, as such, it is our duty to populate the galaxy. My sermon…”

  “Yes, I’ve read it. A satisfactory interpretation of the Church’s reformed doctrine. And you say you still continued to lose attendance?” Rice nodded. “But, of course, the Church has a social role as well. Have you tried…?”

  “Family nights. Charity drives. Bingo games. Pork roasts.” The minister shrugged. “We do all these things, with what few resources we still have, and sometimes they’re successful. About a dozen or so showed up for Easter dinner a couple of weeks ago. But none of this has brought in new members, or at least not permanently.” Rice hesitated. “I should add that I use the word ‘we’ only because I’m so used to saying so. Truth is, I’m now on my own. My associate minister resigned four weeks ago. He renounced Dominionism, has converted to the Presbyterian faith, and now belongs to that church.”

  Cosenza glared at him. “You didn’t tell the elders this in your communiqué.”

  “I prayed that he’d change his mind before you arrived, but I assumed it was the Lord’s will that I carry on alone. Now”—Rice looked down at the floor—“I’m not even sure of that anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” Despite his rising anger, Cosenza reached out to grasp the minister’s hand. “Grey, there are worse things than losing one’s congregation. If you still have your faith…”

  “Deacon, please…” Rice raised his eyes. “It’s not that simple. Something else has happened.” Before Cosenza could ask, he went on. “A few days before I sent word to the elders, I had a visitor…a young man whom I’d never seen before. He wouldn’t tell me who he was but allowed that, until recently, he’d been living in New Brighton, where he’d worked in some official capacity.”

  “That’s rather secretive, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, it is. In fact, I had the impression that he was in trouble with the law. A woman about his own age was with him, but she was reluctant to set foot in the church, so I let her remain outside while he and I went in to speak.”

  “If he was a criminal, you should have…”

  “Notified a proctor, yes, I know. But what he had to tell me was so incredible that I decided to give him sanctuary.” Rice paused. “He told me that he’d met a hjadd, and that it…heshe, rather…had given him a device of some sort that was, in essence, a recording of their spiritual doctrine.”

  For an instant, Cosenza felt as if his heart had stopped. “Dear God, man,” he whispered, staring at the young pastor in astonishment. “Did he let you see it?”

  Rice shook his head. “I asked, but he refused. Said that he left it elsewhere, in a place where he knew it would be safe until he returned for it. He didn’t say as much, but I think he was reluctant to show it to anyone of any established religion, lest it be confiscated and destroyed.”

  “But…I don’t understand. Why would…?”

  “My visitor told me a little of what he’d learned from his…well, examination…of this object, and it contradicted everything we believe to be true.” Cosenza opened his mouth to speak, but Rice quickly went on. “Not just Dominionism…virtually every major religion as well. Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hindu…”

  “Heresy.”

  “That was what I thought, too. And I told him so.” Rice shook his head. “In hindsight, I know now that doing so was a mistake. He became upset, told me that he’d come seeking spiritual guidance, not recrimination. Then he and his companion left. When I realized that I’d said the wrong thing, I went out to search for them. But apparently they’ve left town, and I haven’t seen them since.”

  Cosenza’s hands were shaking. He clasped them together in his lap to keep them still. “Perhaps it’s a hoax,” he said quietly. “Or maybe he was delusional…”

  “That possibility occurred to me, too. But I had to find out for myself.” Abruptly, Rice stood up from his chair and, head lowered, began to pace the small room. “What I did next may have been…well, questionable…yet it was the only recourse I felt was open to me.”

  He stopped, gazed at the deacon. “I went to see the hjadd.”

  The door to the alien embassy bore an uncomfortable resemblance to a sphincter, and when it silently swirled shut behind him, Rice had the eerie feeling that he’d entered a womb. The chamber in which he found himself was dark, save for abstract patterns etched into the rock walls that emitted a sanguine glow, and unnaturally warm. Whatever he’d been expecting to find in the hjadd habitat, that wasn’t it.

  His eyes had barely adjusted to the gloom when a beam of light came down from the concave ceiling, revealing a couchlike recamier in the center of the room. Once again, Rice heard the disembodied voice that had addressed him outside the building. “Welcome, Reverend. Please make yourself comfortable. One of our people will be with you soon.”

  Rice swallowed, even though his throat was dry. The voice spoke perfect Anglo. It lacked a human accent; nevertheless, he’d been surprised to hear his own language. “Thank you,” he said, then he approached the recamier, his footsteps echoing faintly from the stone floor. Another surprise: resting upon a small table beside the couch was a small copper pitcher, with a matching cup next to it. The water in the pitcher was lukewarm, but at least he was able to quench his thirst; he poured some into the cup and, taking a drink, sat down on the couch.

  Rice tried to remain calm, yet he was amazed how easy it had been to gain admission to the embassy. It had taken a couple of days for him to get in touch with Carlos Montero, and when the Federation liaison to the hjadd finally returned his call, he’d warned Rice not to expect much. “I’ll pass along your request, Reverend,” Carlos had said, “but you should know that a lot of folks have tried to meet them. So far, they’ve only let in two people…myself and Morgan Goldstein. With all due respect, I doubt that they’ll want to talk to you.”

  So Rice was shocked when, later that same day, the former president called back to inform him that the hjadd had agreed to a meeting. Indeed, Carlos seemed surprised; perhaps he’d believed that the aliens had better things to do than have a conversation with a Dominionist minister. Yet he kept his opinion to himself, and instead instructed Rice to go to the north wall of the hjadd compound, where the public entrance was located.

  “Any time will do,” Carlos added. “Right now, if you’d like. The hjadd…well, they’re rather quixotic when it comes to schedules. Either they’ll let you in, or they’ll tell you to go away and come back later.”

  So Rice had put on his shawl and hurried out of the church, making his way on foot across the university campus until he reached the embassy. It wasn’t until he’d almost reached the stone torus that he realized, in his haste, he’d neglected to bring along his Bible. Not that it mattered much—he knew the Holy Scriptures by heart—but nonetheless, if he was going to discuss religion with the hjadd, it might have helped if he’d brought the gospels.

  So here he was, sitting in what he took to be a reception room, drinking warm water and wondering how long the aliens would keep him waiting. Not long, as it turned out. He’d barely become accustomed to his surroundings when a new voice spoke to him—“Good afternoon, Reverend Rice”—and he looked around to discover a hjadd standing behind him.

  Startled, Rice almost dropped his cup. The hjadd wasn’t wearing an environment suit, but instead was dressed in a togalike outfit made of some iridescent fabric, its folds and bell sleeves embroidered with intricate, almost arabesque designs. He’d seen pictures of the aliens, of course, yet he found himself unprepared for the sigh
t of one up close. Slightly shorter than the average human, heshe looked somewhat like a bipedal tortoise, only lacking a shell. A short, ribbed fin rose from the top of hisher hairless skull, while two slitted eyes protruded above a beaklike snout, its lipless mouth perpetually frozen in a solemn frown.

  “Again, good afternoon.” The hjadd raised hisher left hand in a gesture of greeting. “You are the Reverend Grey Rice, or am I mistaken?”

  “Yes…yes, I’m Reverend Rice.” He fumbled to put the cup back on the table, then hastily stood up and turned to face the alien. “Sorry, I…You just startled me a bit, that’s all.”

  The fin rose a little higher as the hjadd made a sputtering hiss that Rice hoped was laughter. “Quite understandable. Our projector”—hisher six-fingered hand motioned toward the ceiling—“has a somewhat limited range, I am afraid. We are not always able to appear in exactly the proper place to greet our guests without alarming them.”

  It was only then that Rice realized that the hjadd wasn’t actually in the chamber with him. Yet the hologram was so realistic that the only evidence of intangibility was the lack of shadow. He also noticed that, when heshe spoke, hisher voice didn’t match the movements of hisher mouth, but instead came from some indirect source. Apparently a translation device was being used.

  “No reason to apologize,” he said, stepping around the recamier to approach the holo. “I…”

  “My name is Jasahajahd Taf Sa-Fhadda,” the hjadd continued, as if Rice hadn’t spoken. “You may address me as Taf. I am the Cultural Ambassador to the Coyote Federation from Hjarr. Our Prime Emissary, Mahamatasja Jas Sa-Fhadda, has given me the privilege of meeting with you.” A brief pause. “I understand you wish to discuss a matter regarding our spiritual beliefs.”

  “Um, yes…yes, I do.” Nervously straightening his shawl, Rice tried to collect himself. “A few days ago, I had a visitor at my church…” Realizing that the alien might not understand such human terms, he stopped and tried again. “Among my kind, a church is a place of worship. We believe in the existence of a divine creator. The Church of the Holy Dominion—”

  “Forgive me, Reverend, but I should let you know that our knowledge of your race isn’t limited to your languages.” Taf’s eyes twitched independently of one another, a mannerism Rice found disconcerting. “We know what a church is, as well as the Church of the Holy Dominion…a denomination of Christianity, which in turn is one of the major monotheistic religions of your world.” Hisher head weaved back and forth on hisher neck. “A curious belief, particularly for a starfaring species…but please, continue.”

  “Yes, of course.” The last comment roused Rice’s curiosity, but he decided to let it pass, at least for the moment. “As I was saying, a young man recently visited my church, stating that he’d met one of your kind. Our meeting was brief, and he didn’t tell me his name, but he informed me that he’d been given some sort of information retrieval device that was apparently…well, a holy book, much like our own Bible, which described your own religion.”

  “I believe I know this person.” Taf’s fin rose slightly. “In fact, if it is the same individual whom I met shortly after I arrived on this world, it was I myself who gave him the object of which you speak.”

  “You did?” Rice tried to hide his astonishment. “What’s his name? As I said, our meeting was very brief, and I’d like to know who he is. Perhaps…”

  “If this individual chose not to identify himself, then he must have had a reason to do so. If that is the case, then perhaps it’s best for me to observe diplomatic jurisprudence.” Hisher head cocked to the left. “However, I will tell you that I believed him to be someone who was in need of spiritual guidance, which is why I decided to give him a gift.”

  Taf held out hisher left hand. A moment later, a small object materialized in hisher palm: a tiny jar suspended within a pedestal-mounted gold frame. “This is a Sa’Tong-tas…literally, the Book of the Sa’Tong. It is an interactive teaching device, containing the wisdom and knowledge of Sa’Tong as passed to the races of the Talus by its Great Teacher, the chaaz’braan.”

  Rice stepped a little closer to examine the Sa’Tong-tas. It didn’t look like any sort of book he’d ever seen; indeed, if he hadn’t been told what it was, he might have mistaken it for little more than an interesting curio. “So this thing”—a short, angry hiss from the hjadd as hisher throat sacs inflated slightly—“pardon me, the Sa’Tong-tas…it’s about your religion?”

  “Yes, except that your choice of words is in error.” Taf seemed to relax, because hisher throat resumed its former appearance. “Sa’Tong is not a religion, or at least not as you define it, but rather a system of spiritual beliefs. More akin to a philosophy, although even that is not an accurate description.” A pause. “Call it a higher form of ethics, if you will.”

  “Then”—Rice hesitated—“if Sa’Tong is not a religion, then I take it that you do not believe in God?”

  “Do you mean to ask if I believe in the existence of God?” Again, the sputtering hiss that Rice had come to recognize as hjadd laughter. “Then, yes, I believe in God. How can I fail to do so? After all, I am God.”

  Rice stared at himher. “What?”

  “I am God.” The Sa’Tong-tas faded from hisher palm, and Taf pointed a finger at him. “And so are you.”

  “What?”

  “I am God. You are God. So is everyone in this embassy and outside these walls. Indeed, every sentient creature in the known universe, and even those we have yet to discover, is God.” The hjadd’s heavy-lidded eyes slowly blinked. “This truth is self-evident. As I said earlier, it is rather surprising that an advanced species such as your own has not already determined this.”

  “No, we haven’t!” Rice felt his face grow warm. Unable to conceal his disgust, he took a step back. “In fact, I’d have to say that it’s blasphemy! How dare you…?”

  “My apologies, Reverend.” Taf held up a placating hand. “It was not my intent to offend you. I forgot that your race still adheres to deistic beliefs.” Heshe paused. “It is only that the notion that the universe is the creation of a divine entity is…shall we say, immature.”

  Rice’s first impulse was to stalk angrily from the room. Leave the place behind and return to his church, there to pray for God’s mercy and forgiveness. Yet he remembered that his role as a missionary was to bring the word of the Lord to those who’d never heard it. Surely that would include extraterrestrials as well as humans. So he took a deep breath and tried again.

  “No need to apologize, Ambassador,” he said. “It’s just that what you say doesn’t make sense. If you and I are both God…or gods, rather…then who created us?”

  “I use the word God in the singular sense, as a term for a collective presence.” Taf’s head bobbed slightly. “Furthermore, your question is based on the assumption that God created you, when the fact of the matter is that you created God.”

  “Not an assumption at all. It’s clearly stated in the first chapter of Genesis, the first book of our Bible…‘So God created man in his own image, in the image of the God he created him; male and female he created them.’”

  “Interesting.” Taf seemed to reflect upon this for a moment. “Obviously, I do not look like you. Also, I’m not strictly male or female, but instead periodically change genders for purposes of mating and reproduction. Therefore, according to your scriptures, God did not create me. Is that correct?”

  Rice had no immediate answer, or at least none that was not potentially embarrassing. “My Church has recently decided that God may have created other beings that were not in His own image,” he said carefully. “However, this does not necessarily mean that the hjadd aren’t part of His Holy Dominion.”

  “Yes. Of course.” Taf’s eyes moved apart from each other. “It may surprise you that this is a typical assumption, usually made by primitive races that haven’t yet progressed to the point where they become aware that their existence is not unique. Allow me to demonstrate…” />
  Hisher mouth silently moved. Whatever Taf said wasn’t translated, but a moment later, heshe vanished, to be replaced by another hologram: an enormous hjadd, twice life-size and completely naked, exposing the ridged external spine that ran down hisher back. The hjadd was surrounded by a nimbus of soft light, and Rice noticed an expression in hisher eyes that could only be described as maternal.

  The creature abruptly bent over and spread hisher thick legs apart. The fin on hisher head extended to its full height as hisher throat sacs rapidly puffed and deflated; the hjadd opened hisher mouth and emitted a strangled cry, and a second later a large egg, speckled blue and white, emerged from an orifice between hisher legs. The egg fell to the ground beneath the hjadd, and as heshe turned to gaze at it, the egg cracked at its center and burst open. From within its shell, stars, planets, entire galaxies rushed forth, spewing outward to fill the entire chamber.

  The hologram faded, and Taf reappeared. “That was a representation of the creation myth of my own culture. Many centuries ago, before my race developed the means to leave our homeworld, our dominant religion stated that this was the way the universe was born…as a giant egg, conceived and hatched by a god that, not coincidentally, looked exactly like us.” Heshe peered at Rice. “Are you saying that this is inherently wrong, because it contradicts what is stated in your own scriptures?”

  “Well, I…”

  “No need to be polite. Of course it is wrong. We now acknowledge it to be nothing more than a myth, concocted by an infant culture trying to make sense of its place in the universe. Much the same goes for every race we have encountered. There are variations, naturally…the primitive soranta had a creation myth that was wonderfully complex…but the pattern almost always remains the same, with everything else predicated upon that essential belief.”

  Hisher head moved up and down. “Yet as our race matured, gradually developing the scientific means to study and understand the nature of the universe, the truth became obvious. Our god did not create us…we created our god. In time, we discarded our old beliefs, simply because we no longer needed to have a religion to comfort us with the notion that we were unique. The hjadd are unique, as are humans…but the truth remains that we are not alone in the universe.”