Read Online Into the New Millennium: Trailblazing Tales From Analog Science Fiction and Fact, 2000 - 2010 by Penny Publications - Free Book Online
Authors: Penny Publications
Tags: Science-Fiction, Literature & Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Anthologies, Anthologies & Short Stories
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another leg. "And Reverence," he intoned, stamping his sixth foot.
"Do you think you exemplify these sacred qualities?" said Harshket.
K'chir stood silent.
"From your comments that I and no doubt many others of the people heard," said Harshket, "I rather think you fail with regard to Reverence, the highest of the qualities."
"I'm not sure I am fully a believer," said K'chir. Jerik noticed that his friend was being a lot more tentative than usual.
"Not sure?" Harshket raised his forward legs in the air and chirped, the rasping chirp of the elderly. "Can you not detect the sweet manna sent down from heaven by our kind and all-powerful god?"
"Maybe . . ." said K'chir in a cautious, even frightened voice. "Maybe the manna from heaven is just the dead—decomposed and sent back down to us."
"Nonsense!"
Jerik felt the turbulence of the current reflecting Harshket's anger—and then the turbulence subsided.
"Who, K'chir, do you think does the sending?" Harshket spoke in the voice of a philosophy master, which, of course, he was.
"The same one who sends down those," said K'chir. He pinged a stream of sulfur-bubbles coming from on high. "And why would God send down foul-smelling, inedible life-bubbles that burn our bodies?"
"To test our faith, of course. You know that." Harshket spoke as if he were addressing young children.
Jerik moved his mandible in a soft, unpingable show of amusement. Of course, to old Harshket, everyone was surely a child.
"You are in Fourth School—Collective philosophy," said Harshket, wearily. "Collective! Do you think you're setting a good example for your young friend who is only, if I recall correctly, in Third School—Deductive philosophy?"
"I think, sir, I am setting a good example. At least I'm trying to."
"Then you fall short in the quality of Wisdom as well."
Jerik sensed his friend bristle.
"Yes, I accept the Six-fold way," said K'chir. "But there are qualities it leaves out. What about Innovation? What about Adventurousness?" He chirped a sigh. "I'm so bored."
"Ah, so that's it." Harshket chuckled and Jerik breathed easier. He'd been worried his friend had been pushing the priest too far.
"Adventurousness," said Harshket, thoughtfully. "We have ice-gliding races, wrestling, debate rallies. Compete! That should address your boredom. Or perhaps you might study harder."
"I'm bored with all our rituals and traditions," said K'chir. "I want to create, to innovate."
"Me too," said Jerik, wanting to get into the game, now that High Priest Harshket seemed more disputative than angry.
"You are a mere juvenile, Jerik!" said Harshket, in a voice near anger. "And so young that your voice is almost as high pitched as your ping-chirp."
"Yes, sir." Jerik thought deference the safest course at the moment.
Harshket chirped a sigh. "And as to you, K'chir. You must wait until the Sixth School—Transcendental philosophy. Your time will come."
"Maybe our culture has gotten too old." K'chir lowered his head and soft-pinged the ice in an expression of sadness. "During our creative period, when we should be advancing the art, we're still learning what has gone before—studying philosophy, memorizing poetry." He chirped frustration. "And even then, we study narrower and narrower specialties until we cannot any longer see the whole. True innovation is impossible."
"That is known," said Harshket. "It is a sign that God's work for his people is almost done."
Jerik was afraid that would set his friend off, would make him say something he'd regret. But K'chir merely said, "I want more in life."
"More?" Now Harshket sounded angry. "Just what do you young people want?"
"For one thing," said K'chir, "true knowledge."
"Meaning what?"
"Well . . ." said K'chir in a light tone. He'd apparently also detected the edge in Harshket's voice and knew it could mean danger. K'chir pinged the ice. "I'd sort of like to know what that grinding beneath the ice is."
Clearly, K'chir was trying to lighten the
"Do you think you exemplify these sacred qualities?" said Harshket.
K'chir stood silent.
"From your comments that I and no doubt many others of the people heard," said Harshket, "I rather think you fail with regard to Reverence, the highest of the qualities."
"I'm not sure I am fully a believer," said K'chir. Jerik noticed that his friend was being a lot more tentative than usual.
"Not sure?" Harshket raised his forward legs in the air and chirped, the rasping chirp of the elderly. "Can you not detect the sweet manna sent down from heaven by our kind and all-powerful god?"
"Maybe . . ." said K'chir in a cautious, even frightened voice. "Maybe the manna from heaven is just the dead—decomposed and sent back down to us."
"Nonsense!"
Jerik felt the turbulence of the current reflecting Harshket's anger—and then the turbulence subsided.
"Who, K'chir, do you think does the sending?" Harshket spoke in the voice of a philosophy master, which, of course, he was.
"The same one who sends down those," said K'chir. He pinged a stream of sulfur-bubbles coming from on high. "And why would God send down foul-smelling, inedible life-bubbles that burn our bodies?"
"To test our faith, of course. You know that." Harshket spoke as if he were addressing young children.
Jerik moved his mandible in a soft, unpingable show of amusement. Of course, to old Harshket, everyone was surely a child.
"You are in Fourth School—Collective philosophy," said Harshket, wearily. "Collective! Do you think you're setting a good example for your young friend who is only, if I recall correctly, in Third School—Deductive philosophy?"
"I think, sir, I am setting a good example. At least I'm trying to."
"Then you fall short in the quality of Wisdom as well."
Jerik sensed his friend bristle.
"Yes, I accept the Six-fold way," said K'chir. "But there are qualities it leaves out. What about Innovation? What about Adventurousness?" He chirped a sigh. "I'm so bored."
"Ah, so that's it." Harshket chuckled and Jerik breathed easier. He'd been worried his friend had been pushing the priest too far.
"Adventurousness," said Harshket, thoughtfully. "We have ice-gliding races, wrestling, debate rallies. Compete! That should address your boredom. Or perhaps you might study harder."
"I'm bored with all our rituals and traditions," said K'chir. "I want to create, to innovate."
"Me too," said Jerik, wanting to get into the game, now that High Priest Harshket seemed more disputative than angry.
"You are a mere juvenile, Jerik!" said Harshket, in a voice near anger. "And so young that your voice is almost as high pitched as your ping-chirp."
"Yes, sir." Jerik thought deference the safest course at the moment.
Harshket chirped a sigh. "And as to you, K'chir. You must wait until the Sixth School—Transcendental philosophy. Your time will come."
"Maybe our culture has gotten too old." K'chir lowered his head and soft-pinged the ice in an expression of sadness. "During our creative period, when we should be advancing the art, we're still learning what has gone before—studying philosophy, memorizing poetry." He chirped frustration. "And even then, we study narrower and narrower specialties until we cannot any longer see the whole. True innovation is impossible."
"That is known," said Harshket. "It is a sign that God's work for his people is almost done."
Jerik was afraid that would set his friend off, would make him say something he'd regret. But K'chir merely said, "I want more in life."
"More?" Now Harshket sounded angry. "Just what do you young people want?"
"For one thing," said K'chir, "true knowledge."
"Meaning what?"
"Well . . ." said K'chir in a light tone. He'd apparently also detected the edge in Harshket's voice and knew it could mean danger. K'chir pinged the ice. "I'd sort of like to know what that grinding beneath the ice is."
Clearly, K'chir was trying to lighten the
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