Code Of The Lifemaker

by Hogan, James

  petrified, staring up at two radiant orbs of purest violet that had appeared in

  the sky above the mountaintop moments after the voices had gone quiet. "By the

  Lifemaker!" he gasped. A flying creature, similar to the one he had seen over

  Xerxeon but glowing with blinding light, and much larger, was floating over the

  mountain, above the orbs. It was sinking slowly toward the ground, balanced on a

  column of violet radiance. The orbs were descending steadily too, all the time

  keeping ahead of the creature as if to clear its way—harbingers of light sent on

  before the heavenly beast to conduct it from its sacred realm beyond the sky.

  The creature descended out of sight, and shortly afterward a halo of violet

  light appeared and continued to glow softly among the rocks at the summit.

  What did it mean? Was it a sign for Groork to ascend the mountain or a warning

  for him to turn back? Would he risk being smitten for presumptuous arrogance if

  he went forward, or smitten for self-serving disobedience and cowardice if he

  went back? For a fleeting moment he wished his brother Thirg were present;

  blasphemer or not, Thirg's unholy methods of argument could prove useful in

  situations like this. And then Groork remembered the message he had been given

  at the time of his being commanded to leave Xerxeon: Soon he would be told of

  the path that it was the Lifemaker's will for him to follow. The ways of the

  Lifemaker were sometimes mysterious and devious, but they were never misleading

  or capricious.

  So now, it seemed, the moment had come.

  With a mixture of wonder, trepidation, and excitement rising within him at every

  step, Groork urged his mount off" the trail he had been following and began to

  pick his way upward. When the smoother terrain gave way to steeper ice crags and

  broken rock, he dismounted near some mountain scrub growing by a stream,

  tethered his animal to a bar of a conduit-support trellis beside a clump of

  tubing winders, and climbed on foot toward the mystical light beckoning to him

  from the summit.

  "So what does Gerry think he can do about it?" Zambendorf asked. Vernon Price

  shrugged in his seat across the cabin. "He's not sure yet. What can you do? Try

  and get the message across to as many Taloids as you can about what's behind it

  all and why, maybe... Then perhaps enough of them will wise up sufficiently to

  throw out the leaders who'd go along with Giraud's deal. In a word, you educate

  them, I guess."

  Zambendorf shook his head. "It's no good, Vernon. It won't work."

  Price shuffled his feet awkwardly, as if deep down he already knew that. "How

  come?" he asked anyway.

  "Because the Taloids are too much like people—they believe what they want to

  believe and close their eyes to what they don't want to believe. They need to

  think the world is the way they'd like it to be because having to face up to the

  reality that it isn't would be too uncomfortable. So they carry on pretending

  because it makes them feel better."

  Price frowned for a second. "I'm not sure I see the connection." <> "When you

  look around at the leaders people follow and take orders from unquestioningly,

  what do you see? For the most part, you can't say that the leaders are where

  they are because of any particular talent or ability, can you—most of them

  aren't really very bright when all's said and done. In many cases their only

  claim to exceptionality is their abnormal gullibility and extraordinary capacity

  for self-delusion. But the people don't see it. The leader-image that exists in

  the minds of the followers is something quite different. The person that the

  followers follow is a fantasy that they manufacture in their own imaginations,

  which they can project onto anyone who'll stand up and play the role. All that a

  leader needs is the gall to stand up and tell them he's got what they're looking

  for. They'll believe it because they need to."

  "They need to believe they're in capable hands," Price said, taking the point.

  "Truth isn't the important thing. The important thing is to be certain." It

  didn't sound as if he was hearing it for the first time.

  "To have the illusion of certainty, anyway," Zambendorf agreed. "If they just

  know their place and do as they're told, life will be very cosy and

  uncomplicated. To feel secure they need their authority figures. They'd be lost

  without them—hopelessly, helplessly, and traumatically. They talk about being

  free, but the thought of real freedom terrifies them. They couldn't handle it

  ... not until they learn how in their own time, anyhow." He raised his head to

  look at Price. "And that's why trying to tell them they're being taken doesn't

  do any good. Even if they do get rid of whoever is selling them up the river

  today, tomorrow they'll be flocking after somebody else who's just as bad, and

  quite likely worse. They wouldn't have learned a thing."

  A few seconds of silence passed, broken only by the voices of Clarissa and

  Abaquaan reciting numbers to each other in the nose compartment. "So what do you

  do?" Price asked at last. "About the Taloids, I mean. We can't just wash our

  hands of the whole business and do nothing."

  Zambendorf frowned down at the floor and sighed. "First we have to accept

  reality as it is," he replied slowly. "And the facts are that you can't turn

  people whose beliefs are based on ignorance and superstition into rational,

  objective thinkers overnight. You'd be wasting your time. They don't have the

  concepts. The only way they'll get rid of corrupt leaders is when they stop

  listening to them, not because of any slogans that you or I might have taught

  them to memorize, but because of reasons they've worked out for themselves and

  understand. You're right —the answer is education, but unfortunately there isn't

  any instant brand of it that you can get by adding water."

  Price thought for a moment. "Well, if they're going to go on being irrational

  for a while anyway, maybe the best thing you can do is give them some kind of

  harmless substitute to get them by in the meantime," he said. "You should know

  what I'm talking about. It's what you've been doing for years, isn't it."

  "Well, it took you long enough to figure that out," Zambendorf grunted.

  Price worried at a tooth with his thumbnail and eyed Zambendorf dubiously for a

  second or two longer, then looked away and stared at the far wall. Suddenly he

  got up and crossed the cabin to peer through one of the ports. "What is it?"

  Zambendorf asked, turning in his seat.

  "I thought I saw something moving just outside the light out there. . . . Maybe

  not. I don't know."

  Zambendorf rose to his feet and moved over to the port to look for himself.

  After a few seconds he called in the direction of the forward cabin door, "Can

  you turn on an outside flood, Clarissa?—port-side forward?"

  "Why?"

  "We think there might be something moving out there."

  A moment later a cone of light stabbed from the craft and etched the figure of

  the Taloid clearly against the darkness. It was motionless on its knees, its

  hands clasped upon its chest and its head bowed in humble reverence.

  28

  "ARRGH!"


  Groork raised his arms to shield his eyes as the shining creature's side opened

  and more blinding violet light poured from within. Clearly this appointment had

  been preordained and marked the moment that the Lifemaker had chosen to make

  known to Groork the purpose for which the whole of his life so far had been the

  preparation. A chorus of voices sang thunderously from a bulge on the creature's

  back, rising to a crescendo as if to announce the arrival of some great

  presence, and then faded. Groork moved his fingers from an eye to look . . .

  then gasped, and raised his head hesitantly in awe and terror. A figure had

  appeared, barely visible in silhouette against the glare from the shining

  creature's interior. Its outline took on form and substance as it emerged—a

  broad, round-headed angel with a face that shone as fire, wreathed in glowing

  vapors—sent down from the celestial realm as the Lifemaker's personal emissary

  to Groork.

  "Oh, get up off your knees, you fool," Zambendorf said irritably.

  The screen of the transmogrifier that he was holding displayed REMOVE UP FROM

  YOUR KNEES. YOU ARE JOKING.

  "Delete," Zambendorf told it with a sigh. "Substitute: Rise up."

  "Arise," the angel boomed, and advanced slowly a few paces. It held a frond from

  some strange tree that Groork didn't recognize. A second angel had appeared

  behind it, standing in the opening in the shining creature's side.

  "There, Vernon," Zambendorf said into his helmet mike. "Your first Taloid at

  close quarters." The Taloid was wearing a tunic of woven wire, a thick cloaklike

  garment, and a dark cap of some rubbery-looking material. As it climbed slowly

  to its feet, it picked up a staff of metal tubing that it had laid by its side.

  "It's . . . amazing," Price's voice replied haltingly. "It's so different from

  watching recordings up in the ship." There was a second or two of silence. "What

  do you think it's doing up here?"

  "I've no idea . . . attracted by our lights and the flyer's thermal radiation,

  probably. From some of the things Galileo said, I wouldn't be surprised if it

  thinks we're gods or something."

  "It's uncanny," Price said, staring.

  "I am Zambendorf," Zambendorf said, activating the transmogrifier again and

  pointing to himself; then he instructed the instrument: "Get name."

  "I am the Wearer," the angel announced as the computers returned the Taloid

  pulse-sequence that had been equated to "Zambendorf"— the Wearer of the sacred

  Symbol of Life, Groork decided. Then the angel asked, "What is your name?"

  "Groork, known as Hearer-of-Voices, son of Methgark and Coorskeria, and brother

  ofThirg," Groork answered. He was surprised that the angel didn't know.

  "No, too long. Shorter please," the angel said.

  The celestial voices were rising and falling in the background again. They

  seemed to be saying, "Light and awe. Light and awe . . ." Or was it "Send light

  and awe"? Groork frowned as he tried to make sense of it. The angel was still

  standing and waiting. Why wouldn't the angel accept his name? What were the

  voices trying to say?

  And then Groork understood. This was his moment of spiritual rebirth, which

  would be symbolized by his being rebaptized with a new name. The angel wished

  him to repeat the name by which the Lifemaker wanted him to be known'from now

  on, and which the voices were telling him. "Enlightener!" he exclaimed as the

  inspiration struck. "I am called the Enlightener!"

  NAME OBTAINED, the transmogrifier screen reported. ENGLISH MATCH REQUIRED.

  Zambendorf thought for a moment, and then said, "Moses. Spell M-O-S-E-S."

  Moses? the screen repeated.

  "Okay."

  "I shall go forth from this place as the Lifemaker commands and enlighten the

  world," the Enlightener declared, his voice rising in fervor. "I shall destroy

  the blasphemers and smite down the unbelievers who bow themselves not before the

  holy words that I shall bring unto them. I shall—"

  "Stop! Thou jabberest. Makest not sense any. More simple. Shorter please."

  It wasn't the angel that spoke, but the frond that the angel was holding, the

  Enlightener realized with a start—the angel was teaching the frond to speak. He

  stared in wonder. Then he realized that it was a miracle to show that the angel

  was truly a messenger from the Lifemaker. That explained its questions: The

  frond was like a child, and obviously couldn't be expected to comprehend all the

  complexities of speech in an instant. "My task now," he said to it, making his

  phrases short and simple. "Talk to world. Kill all Lifemaker's enemies."

  "Talk to world means talk to robeings?" the frond asked.

  "Yes," the Enlightener answered.

  MOSES' JOB AT PRESENT—TALKING TO TALOIDS; KILLING HERETICS, the screen informed

  Zambendorf.

  Zambendorf shook his head. "No! No! Killing each other is not the way. You have

  to understand that!"

  The screen offered NOT KILLING EACH OTHER IS NOT A GOOD METHOD. HIGHLY PROBABLE

  THAT YOU UNDERSTAND.

  "Damn," Zambendorf muttered beneath his breath. "Delete. Substitute: Do not kill

  each other. Imperative that you understand."

  (Phrase 1) DO NOT KILL.

  (Phrase 2) IMPERATIVE THAT = command?

  "Oh hell . . . Delete phrase two," Zambendorf ordered.

  And the frond said, "Thou shall not kill."

  "Clarissa," Zambendorf called into his radio. "How are you doing in there?"

  "Nearly through. Why?"

  "Is there any chance Otto can come out here? He's more used to this damn

  transmogrifier thing than I am."

  "I'm done. I'll be out as soon as I get a helmet on," Abaquaan's voice said.

  Meanwhile the Enlightener was standing transfixed in wonderment. He had heard

  the divine command. But what new wisdom was the Lifemaker revealing? Was His

  power so strong and invincible that His faithful need have no fear of enemies?

  Were heretics, blasphemers, and unbelievers not to be punished? The Enlightener

  stared at the frond in the angel's hand and puzzled over what the utterance

  meant. And then, slowly, his inner eye was opened. What did killing another

  robeing signify, apart from brutality and ignorance, and an inability to

  persuade by other means? It required no learning or schooling, no discipline and

  development of self, no comprehension of worth, or any aspiration to higher

  things. The lowest savages in the farthest reaches of the swamplands south of

  Serethgin were capable of that. They knew of no other way to settle their

  differences.

  Truly this was a sacred moment that would be recorded in the Scribings, and this

  spot a holy place that would be visited by pilgrims and penitents for all the

  twelve-brights that were left to come until the world ended. The moment should

  be symbolized by an act that would immortalize it, the Enlightener thought, and

  the spot marked as the selected place of the angels' coming. He looked around

  him and saw a smooth, flat rock, obviously placed there to serve his purpose. He

  moved over to it, and with the tip of his staff inscribed slowly and solemnly

  near the top of the slab the words:

  THOU SHALT NOT KILL.

  When he had finished he looked up, and saw that a th
ird angel had appeared.

  "What more of me does the Lifemaker command?" he asked meekly.

  Abaquaan took the transmogrifier from Zambendorf. "He seems pretty impressed by

  the message," he said. "Maybe it's a new idea to these guys. He wants to know if

  you've got any more of 'em."

  "They mustn't believe anyone who tries to tell them they're worthless or

  inferior," Zambendorf said. "But neither must they believe they are superior to

  any of the neighboring nations. All the nations must accept each other as equal

  partners and learn to cooperate in building a better future for all." After some

  exchanges with the transmogrifier, Abaquaan had reduced this to something the

  machine could accept.

  And the frond spoke once more. The Enlightener listened, then added the numeral

  1 before his previous inscription and wrote underneath it:

  2. THOU ART THY NEIGHBOR'S EQUAL. HELP THY NEIGHBOR, AND THY NEIGHBOR SHALL HELP

  THEE.

  The Enlightener was being enlightened, as he would bring enlightenment to

  others. With just a few simple words, the Lifemaker had opened up a vision of a

  whole new world that could come to be, a world in which all robeings everywhere

  would prosper and help one another grow strong in a spirit of compassion,

  cooperation, tolerance, and understanding. All would be brothers, like Thirg. A

  new era would come to pass, in which killing and violence would be renounced and

  universal love among robeings would prevail—a stronger, deeper, and more

  enduring force to shape the world than anything ever conceived previously.

  "What's he doing?" Price asked as the Taloid finished scratching a second row

  below the marks that it had made on a large ice slab with its staff.

  "Looks like he doesn't carry a notebook," Abaquaan replied. "I guess we must be

  saying the right things."

  Price stared at the Taloid for a few seconds longer. "I'll be back out in a

  second," he said, and disappeared into the open outer door of the flyer's

  airlock.

  "I'm all through," Clarissa's voice informed them. "How's it with Rin-Tin-Tin

  out there?"

  "We need a few more minutes," Zambendorf said. He switched back to local to

  address Abaquaan. "They shouldn't blindly accept anything that others tell them

  to believe. Facts are the only guide to what is true, and facts can't be changed