wonder if she was being fair. On one hand, the New Redemption Church and others had formed their cult-like religions within months of the city’s formation and begun praying at the altar of Interstellar Jesus. That unseated Piper a little, whose relationship to Traditional Jesus had always been complex. But on the other hand, they wore that insignia on their robes — supposedly a nod to pragmatic realism. The lever was one of the simple machines — a group of concepts that first helped mankind master its physical world.
“I … I’m not sure why I’m here.”
The monk took Piper’s hand. “Many who find us feel the same. Were you admiring the images?”
Piper wasn’t sure what the monk meant, but then saw him looking through the fence at the black stone creature, buried to the waist with its hands raised as if in greeting.
He didn’t wait for her answer.
“One tenant of our predecessor faiths was to refrain from creating graven images. The intention, as we interpret it, was to not worship false idols.” He gestured. “But we believe these are the true idols.”
“You think God was an alien?”
“We seek the truth. Whichever form it may end up taking.” He gestured again. “This is only one guess as to how our deliverers may appear.”
“Well, they don’t look like that,” said Piper, who’d lived around Titans and run from Reptars in just the past few hours alone.
“I refer to the unseen class,” said the monk.
“That’s a lot of work for a guess of something you’ve never seen.” The effigy was huge — the size of a moderately sized building in the New York of her not-terribly distant past. She’d heard cranes at work on this side of the city before. She didn’t think permission to work outside Heaven’s Veil fell under Meyer’s purview, but clearly the Astrals had no issue — allowing the church to build as it wished as a tribute or possible warning. Piper hadn’t been outside the city since the fences had gone up, but she’d heard there were church-built effigies surrounding it. All were different — each a specific artist’s attempt to capture the unseen face of his new god.
The monk had apparently finished discussing the statue. He took Piper by her shawl-covered upper arm and gently steered her toward the door.
“Come. It doesn’t matter why you’ve come. Only that you seek elevation. We welcome all who are interested in the truth.”
Piper was suddenly unsure she wanted to enter the church after all, no matter what Terrence had shoved into her hand. It seemed dark in there, and was sure to be filled with weirdos in robes who thought God looked like a praying mantis.
She moved opposite the monk, not quite pulling away but not going with him either. The slight tugs in different directions resulted in a stalemate, but it did unseat her shawl. It spilled from Piper’s head and pooled in a drape across the monk’s beckoning arm.
His gaze met her big, blue, famous eyes.
“You’re Piper Dempsey,” he said, his mouth slightly open.
“I … ” Piper couldn’t finish. The monk’s grip had tightened slightly — just enough to inform her that he wouldn’t be letting her escape so easily. She tried again. “I made a mistake. I need to go.”
“You are, aren’t you? I’ve seen you on television. On the city network. You’re the viceroy’s wife.”
She tried to pull away, but the man’s grip tightened further. He wasn’t overly large, but she was small. Piper could flee, if she hit him.
“That’s right,” she said, trying to puff up. “So you’d better let me go right now.”
The monk shook his head then pulled her hard, his grip certain. Piper found herself stumbling into the church after him, the big wooden door falling closed behind them.
With the door closed, the stone room’s silence was palpable. An empty silence didn’t permeate the cathedral; it was a thoughtful, contemplative quiet. The place was inhabited by no fewer than thirty monks,
“I … I’m not sure why I’m here.”
The monk took Piper’s hand. “Many who find us feel the same. Were you admiring the images?”
Piper wasn’t sure what the monk meant, but then saw him looking through the fence at the black stone creature, buried to the waist with its hands raised as if in greeting.
He didn’t wait for her answer.
“One tenant of our predecessor faiths was to refrain from creating graven images. The intention, as we interpret it, was to not worship false idols.” He gestured. “But we believe these are the true idols.”
“You think God was an alien?”
“We seek the truth. Whichever form it may end up taking.” He gestured again. “This is only one guess as to how our deliverers may appear.”
“Well, they don’t look like that,” said Piper, who’d lived around Titans and run from Reptars in just the past few hours alone.
“I refer to the unseen class,” said the monk.
“That’s a lot of work for a guess of something you’ve never seen.” The effigy was huge — the size of a moderately sized building in the New York of her not-terribly distant past. She’d heard cranes at work on this side of the city before. She didn’t think permission to work outside Heaven’s Veil fell under Meyer’s purview, but clearly the Astrals had no issue — allowing the church to build as it wished as a tribute or possible warning. Piper hadn’t been outside the city since the fences had gone up, but she’d heard there were church-built effigies surrounding it. All were different — each a specific artist’s attempt to capture the unseen face of his new god.
The monk had apparently finished discussing the statue. He took Piper by her shawl-covered upper arm and gently steered her toward the door.
“Come. It doesn’t matter why you’ve come. Only that you seek elevation. We welcome all who are interested in the truth.”
Piper was suddenly unsure she wanted to enter the church after all, no matter what Terrence had shoved into her hand. It seemed dark in there, and was sure to be filled with weirdos in robes who thought God looked like a praying mantis.
She moved opposite the monk, not quite pulling away but not going with him either. The slight tugs in different directions resulted in a stalemate, but it did unseat her shawl. It spilled from Piper’s head and pooled in a drape across the monk’s beckoning arm.
His gaze met her big, blue, famous eyes.
“You’re Piper Dempsey,” he said, his mouth slightly open.
“I … ” Piper couldn’t finish. The monk’s grip had tightened slightly — just enough to inform her that he wouldn’t be letting her escape so easily. She tried again. “I made a mistake. I need to go.”
“You are, aren’t you? I’ve seen you on television. On the city network. You’re the viceroy’s wife.”
She tried to pull away, but the man’s grip tightened further. He wasn’t overly large, but she was small. Piper could flee, if she hit him.
“That’s right,” she said, trying to puff up. “So you’d better let me go right now.”
The monk shook his head then pulled her hard, his grip certain. Piper found herself stumbling into the church after him, the big wooden door falling closed behind them.
With the door closed, the stone room’s silence was palpable. An empty silence didn’t permeate the cathedral; it was a thoughtful, contemplative quiet. The place was inhabited by no fewer than thirty monks,
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