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Page 10.
 That describes me too—self-sufficient. When Timony mentioned his sister, I felt a greater sense of loss about her than I did about the deaths of my parents when I was so young. It seemed my parents had given what they had to give, and had moved on, while my friendship with Sudie was a lost puzzle piece from a lost childhood. I hadn't thought of her in years, but after my encounter with her brother, she crossed my mind often. That's not good for a monk, who is bound to celibacy under pain of harming the well-being and standing of the entire community in the eyes of the Gods. A monk who violates his vows of chastity, poverty, and service can bring down the wrath of the Gods on the whole community. The punishment for such transgressions is swift and harsh. The offending cleric is stripped of his sacral powers, paraded around in his own funeral procession, and then either thrown off a cliff or sent permanently away to live with the Tribers. It was what had happened to Timony Eastgate—not for sexual crimes, but for theological heresy. There is a solution the Domes quietly offer a young man who craves contact with the opposite sex—castration by severing the ducts that create male sex drive hormones. It is considered irreversible, given our knowledge, but theoretically it could be turned around. I had no intention of finding out. Better to engage in a little illicit self-gratification now and then when the pressure became too much. Some monks turn to drugs or drink, while others bury themselves in work. There were similar situations among the women in the sisterhoods, like the powerful Fire Temple, to which the Holy Mother belonged, the Popess of both the Fire Temple and the whole world. The monks and nuns rarely had contact at any level, so I never knew much about them. The nearest nunnery was, at any rate, a hundred miles away in a large dome city called Buenos Ares. No number. Just Buenos Ares. It is so big that it sprawls over more area than our entire complex with our six domes. Buenos Ares is, one might say, the nearest city. They receive their farm produce from us and other domes around. I have been there several times and found the pace of city life with 25,000 souls exhilarating—until I was mugged, had my money stolen, and was left for dead. That made me glad to return to the small, safe world of the Granistons.
There were increasing images of Balesso and his supporters. He was a surprisingly little man with an effeminate walk, but his eyes were dark and mean and scheming, and his mouth had a hard set to it even when he smiled. His hair was combed over his forehead in a black shock, and the square set of his face radiated the literalness of his take on both scripture (Temple) and law (State).
As I returned from my ordeal after Timony's death, I found nothing was the same. My thoughts kept turning back to my childhood. I kept wondering how she was—the little girl with whom I played house. She always gave directions, but insisted on serving me, so I endured the sitting about and listening to her rambling on and on about her dolls ("our kiddies"), her kitchen, and so on. I'd mentally block her dissertations about her clothing, about which she rambled on and on even at age eight. I began to have fantasies of really playing house with Sudie, which made me have night sweats and erotic dreams. As a city engineer when I wasn't performing Temple rituals, I did not have too hard a life, and managed to get my work done on time and within quality, even when my thoughts were far away.
All this, mind you, in the space of a week, because the Holy Mother was due to arrive soon and begin her preparations for the fire ceremonies. I was tempted to speak with the Abbot about my inner turmoil, at least the warning Timony had given. Timony had said there was an important traitor in the Granistons. I had no idea who that was, and Timony had died before I could get that information. So now I ran the risk of having the traitor find out I knew, and changing the plan a bit, but still killing the Holy Mother. At the same time, I couldn't just ignore the problem, because her visit was upcoming, and how could I morally fail to warn the authorities. Telling the wrong person would put my life in jeopardy, and I didn't want to die. At 26 man-years, I was too young to give up on the nectar of life.
Explaining man-years, there is a way of keeping records according to the legendary ancient calendar sometimes accorded to the legendary Erdith or Erdiz. In the nunneries, women very carefully track their menses, for it is said that their fruitfulness waxes and wanes with the comings and goings of a great yellow moon that hung over the valley of paradise or Erdiz. Legend even has it that this moon had engraved on it the face of a God who is blowing wind across the trees to make nectar and fruit. It all sounded very fanciful to me, and to most rational persons. Nevertheless, according to the ancient calendar preserved by the nuns, it is reckoned that I speak to you in or around the Year 4050. Moreover, legend has it that the Godpods brought first settlers to Mars in the year 2030 of that calendar, so we appear to have been here just over 2,000 years.
I had thoughts of telling Chief Blue, but what if he turned out to be the one helping Balesso to seize power from the kings as well as the domes and temples? Or Chief Brown, who was a Temple insider and fanatical believer, or was that just an act? Could it even be the Abbot, or some prominent Council member?
I resolved, finally, that if I could not determine who the traitor was, then I would find a way to tell the Holy Mother myself before harm could come to her. The latter is, in fact, what happened.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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