Eight Era, cycle 1721 – cycle of the squatting dog, season of Unkh, day 291

Amaka avoided Bo and Lahcen as they returned to Avalia; the walk was uneventful, and whenever one of them started a conversation, Amaka let Syeda handle the talking. It wasn’t anything that the two had done specifically; she just felt uncomfortable about their professional style. Amaka had thought of herself as getting a handle on the way the world worked, but these two had given her something of a culture shock, and she was finding them intimidating.

The group’s return to Avalia was met with a smattering of cheers once word had got around of their success.

Everyone was keen to start the trek to Tumbleswood; however, some parties were still out looking for the beast that had attacked Terry’s wagon. It took most of the day for everyone to return, and so the group struck out late at night and were still in sight of the lights of Avalia when the travellers camped for the night.

It took a few days to move everyone, with the elderly and the young slowing the group down – not that anyone complained. Amaka was rather surprised by the community spirit that seemed to have already been instilled in the group. Perhaps it was the idea of having a “free” village to live in or their knowledge of the harsh world they lived in that encouraged bonding.

The large group attracted only the most hungry and desperate predators, making them all the more dangerous to deal with. Groups were sent out to skirt the edge of the forest and intruding desert to fend off anything sniffing around, before they could scare the children. Despite the numbers of the people protecting the group, the monsters managed to kill people on a few occasions. Amaka was always charging to the fights, but the monsters constantly appeared as far away from Amaka as possible. Each night, the travellers had to mourn for more of their number who’d been killed than the night before.

When they finally reached the meadow that preceded the village, the children burst forwards, laughing and playing. Amaka hated to rob the children of their play, but the group needed to stay together if they were to find their way through the protection around the hamlet. So Amaka got each of the children to hold the hand of an adult, and all the animals were led with rope. It took a long time for everyone to find their way to the glade around the hamlet, and Amaka’s temper was wearing thin through exhaustion and frustration by then, so it was with more shortness than she intended that Amaka warned everyone away from the burned-out building, not wanting anyone to scream at the husk of a gigantic spider.

In spite of the shoddy state of the buildings, and the many burned and dead patches of grass, the people seemed delighted with the find, particularly regarding how defendable the place was.

‘I see what you mean; this is quite the little gem, isn’t it?’ Helmhock declared.

‘Is it? I mean, if it weren’t for the notification saying that this was a settlement, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it,’ Amaka replied scratching her head.

‘Oh, got a message did you? Well now, that saves a lot of faffing about,’ stated Helmhock, nodding.

‘How so?’

‘Well, when you spoke about a place, I wasn’t sure what to expect, see? You spoke about old buildings, but that doesn’t mean much. But what you’ve found here is what’s called a “recognised place”. Heard of them?’ Helmhock eyed Amaka as he spoke.

‘Me? No.’

‘Well, take Avalia; it’s a recognised place because of the castle, but before that, it was like anywhere else. Yet it was a recognised castle, which means it came with a defensive boost. You can turn any shack into a recognised building with the right resources, but what’s the point? No, a named place comes up in your vision, saying you’ve entered there. This has implications, as laws and whatnot can be tied to a named place, so as soon as you enter, you must abide by their rules – well, if you’re a good member of society anyway. This means a castle gives you a defensive boost for the people who live in your named place. A shack would have no boosts attached to it, so it’s a lot of work for no real gain.’

‘Yeah, but I could make a law for anywhere, even if it weren’t named. As long as I had the arms to defend myself anyway.’

‘Aye, but it’s worth the effort of making your land a named place, see? Having a place that’s named means you can earn it experience. That means… skill trees and all the benefits that brings! Since this is a named place, we have even more reason to stay! Who knows what kind of community we could build here? What say you?’

‘Yeah, I guess that sounds good.’ In actuality, Amaka thought Helmhock was getting ahead of himself.

Suddenly, cries began breaking out amongst the new villagers.

‘What now?’ Amaka hurried over to the loudest section to find the cause.

Many people were pointing up at a dark spot in the sky, and others were calling out that the beast that had attacked the cart was back. Amaka cursed Bo for spreading that story around, especially as he’d overexaggerated the beast’s strength. Now, thanks to that story, panic would spread like wildfire. As the creature came more into view, Amaka was able to identify it with her all-seeing-eye ability.

Race: akuma moth

An akuma moth? Run. Seriously, you aren’t ready for a threat of this level. Run!

Genus: Lepidoptera

It’s a moth; what do you want?

Class: A

Affiliation: Nyx

Harvestable itebms: unknown

State: unknown

Suffice it to say, it’s all unknown!

Bestiary increased

Amaka blinked; whoever wrote that was starting to get lippy. Still, if even her bestiary was scared of this thing, then Amaka should be wary. But the moth didn’t attack; instead, it dropped off a cargo and carried on fluttering into the distance. Amaka stared at what it dropped; it looked like a human with extreme photosensitivity, to the extent that its skin was so pale that she could see the veins underneath it. She thought she knew what this creature was, but didn’t believe it, not until the writing confirmed it.

Race: vampire

Vampires – there are so many kinds. There are so many ways to puppet a corpse that it gets difficult to keep track. There’s a family called Mofolio who make each of their children have intercourse with a corpse to turn each generation into vampires, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Vampires are, for the most part, souls trapped on the edge of departing, but who remain trapped in a non-alive husk. (The term “undead” was deemed derogatory by the famed “differently alive” activist, Reg Shoe.) What makes a vampire different from a zombie, for instance, is that vampires keep their free will – even if some have to attend to the whims of their masters – whereas zombies are little more than puppets. This allows a vampire the chance to gain strength and level up, unlike draugr, skeletons and the like, which are little more than fodder and stay at their summoned level.

Subspecies: din sânge (from blood, or from the blood)

Din sânge are vampires of the traditional type, in the sense that a vampire drains its victim of blood and then the body of the victim dies. Before the victim’s soul escapes, the vampire injects some of its own blood into the victim, and the curse of the vampire has another host. As the body of the vampire is a dead husk, the vampire must quest eternally for blood to replenish that lost to the curse if it’s to remain animated. The common vampire is a pitiful creature, smelling of decomposition and with tissue necrosis covering its body, and it’s eternally hungry. They’re considered little above zombies.

However, a vampire with ample sustenance can become immensely powerful; it’s rumoured that the late Vlad was a vampire, and he controlled all of Dacia. However, it’s believed that Vlad was a greater class of vampire than din sânge.

Genus: Reanimated

Class: B

Affiliation: thrall of Neffer Mawds

Harvestable itebms: claws, teeth, blood

State: hungry

Level: 54

Health 2,300/2,700, stamina 10,800/10,800, magicka 2,700/2,700

3 shen points activated

Curses: direct sunlight weakens the creature, causing the loss of 100 life points per second

Bestiary increased

The vampire stood in full view of the sun, its skin burning and flaking like paper over an open fire.

‘I’ve come with a message and a warning. Who is Amaka… of the lizards?’ The vampire spoke in a rasping drawl, like a Louisianan who’d smoked too much.

Amaka stepped forwards and attempted to cross her arm over her stump to show she wasn’t intimidated. ‘Who is Neffer Mawds? I’ve come across his name a lot recently,’ Amaka said lazily.

‘Pray you never find out; he isn’t merciful. He sends a challenge: go to the desert to the south and survive,’ the vampire declared.

‘I thought you said I should pray to never meet him?’ Amaka challenged, raising an eyebrow as she did so.

‘I did; he won’t be there, but he’ll know if you succeed. If you do, he’ll leave you in peace – for now.’

‘Thanks for the message; you may leave now.’

‘I was also to give you a warning from him,’ the vampire retorted as his skin continued to blister and burst sporadically into black flames.

‘You sure you want to do that in daylight?’ Amaka shot back.

He moved so fast that he seemed to appear in front of Amaka, and he imbedded his hand in her chest, up to the wrist.

Battle log:

puncture damage, −300 health points, 600 health points remaining

Affliction: numbing

The vampire’s claws have a natural toxin on them that dulls your pain receptors; 95% of pain receptors and 100% of your sensation of touch have been affected. You have 300 seconds remaining.

There was pandemonium as people screamed and ran around. Cloud was first on the scene and tackled the vampire at full speed whilst biting into him, but the creature didn’t even flinch, and Cloud hung off him like a child swinging from their father’s arm.

‘His warning,’ the vampire whispered into Amaka’s ear, ‘is this: I’m the least of his thralls.’

Oddly, Amaka felt no pain from the hand sunk into her chest, and she kicked out feebly, but it was like kicking a brick wall. There was a smell of burning as his hand caught fire; it burned the flesh of Amaka’s stomach, and steam hissed from her chest as her blood doused the flames playing over the vampires arm.

Battle log:

burned, 50 damage points, 550 health points remaining

Affliction: burning, 120 seconds remaining

As the flames engulfed him, the vampire finally turned to dust, scattering in the wind. Amaka placed her hand over the wound; she felt the burned flesh and probed the gaping wound with her fingers. She shivered as her hand slipped inside her own stomach, and yet she felt nothing. She cast her own feeble healing spells before someone with a better affinity for healing rushed over and closed most of the wound. It was going to leave yet another scar, but as everyone had at least one scar, she wondered idly if scars were almost a beauty trend here.

‘What was all that about?’ Syeda’s face was openly stunned.

It took a moment for Amaka to recover from the shock and respond. ‘A mouthpiece of Neffer Mawds; I’ve run into his people a few times now.’ Amaka bit her lip as she mused.

‘Bit of a daft sod, then,’ said someone in the crowd, who all laughed, more out of tension than real humour.

Amaka shook her head. ‘I disagree; this was a very effective message.’

‘What, he sent someone to immolate himself in front of you?’ that same someone continued

‘Self-immolation has been used by my people as a last line of protest. However, that wasn’t the message. He sent a level 50-something vampire… in the daytime. Now if that thing had come at night, I doubt anyone would have woken up before it slaughtered us all in our sleep. And it said it was the weakest of those under Neffer Mawds’ control. So the actual message was “I can kill you at will. I choose not to. Come and see me, or I’ll send someone stronger.” And even in the daylight, with the way that thing moved, it could have cut down both me and a few others before it… well, cremated itself, if it really wanted to. In my mind, that’s a rather impressive message,’ elucidated Amaka.

‘So what do you plan to do about it?’ a new voice called from the crowd.

Amaka scowled; she’d noticed the use of that particular pronoun (‘you’ if you’re still wondering) to avoid responsibility. ‘I’ll go to the desert at some point to look for him, assuming it’s a him… though it’s bound to be.’

‘First, we must claim this place.’ With that, Helmhock strode forward

‘So how’s that done, then?’ Amaka questioned with a sigh.

‘We must go to the hearthstone, which is the seat of power, and then you can complete your ownership.’

Amaka held her hands up and backed away playfully. ‘Hang on, my dad would kill me. We don’t believe in owning land.’

Helmhock waved away her protestations. ‘It’s more of a binding than an owning.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Amaka shook her head. ‘If you say so, but… well, I guess if the gods or whoever sends those quests and things gives me priority, I can’t really argue. Okay, I think the boss was sitting on a throne, so that’ll be this seat of power – I guess so anyway.’

Amaka led the way to what looked little more than a pile of rubble and overgrown nature, but that was the entrance Stirgar had discovered on their last visit. Amaka was expecting to enter a bombsite – literally, after that crystal thing had exploded – but instead she found an almost comfortable-looking room with soft lighting and a large open fire in the middle. There were two figures already there, but their positions meant that their faces were thrown into shadow. One of them spoke in a raised voice, which Amaka recognised as being Torent, but the other spoke calmly, and Amaka thought she also knew who that voice belonged to, but it couldn’t be!

‘I’m the duly appointed representative of the group. As such, I’m entitled to control this village’s interface. Now offer me the option to take control of the hearthstone!’ Torent’s voice was only just this side of civil.

‘The chance to take control of the village has already been offered to Amaka… something unpronounceable. Unless she refuses or dies, she has the right to forge a bond. There’s no time limit.’ The voice sounded like Ben’s, the archer who had died fighting the boss of the village, but how could a dead man be speaking?

‘Ben?’ Amaka’s voice broke with emotion as she spoke, and her eyes started to burn as the tears filled them.

Ben turned. He was, well, odd; there was something different about his appearance, though not his physical appearance in terms of clothing, but something else. It was almost as if she were watching the television, and Ben was superimposed on the scene.

The apparition of Ben nodded towards Amaka and said, ‘She has the first refusal.’

Amaka blinked back tears; it was Ben. Ben! He was back, he was alive and he was… Well, he seemed indifferent to Amaka’s presence.

Torent didn’t even miss a beat as he discovered Amaka’s presence. ‘Amaka, you must see how stumbling across this verdant paradise does not qualify you for running the council. I’ve been nominated from amongst my peers to lead us going forward.’

Amaka was impressed; you needed to have a mighty ego to brazen your way through what was effectively an open betrayal. It was Amaka’s village, even if she didn’t want it, so for Torent to change tack so quickly was impressive.

‘You’re right; pure chance isn’t a great way to elect a leader,’ Amaka agreed. ‘However, I don’t think a popularity contest works either. Determining who has the silkiest tongue and tells the best lies isn’t a fit way for a country to elect its officials. And all this “the majority want this, so the minority can get stuffed” doesn’t work either. A country should look after its weakest people because, by definition, the richest, most powerful ones can look after themselves. Democracy is a lie; ignoring the minority is a disgusting way for a civilisation to act. So, no, we won’t govern on popularity.’

Torent opened his mouth as colour flooded his cheeks, but he caught himself and stalked out with dignity.

‘That guy is going to be a pain in my arsehole,’ Amaka mused as she watched Torent go.

‘It’s good to see you again, Amaka,’ Ben said.

Amaka beamed as she looked back round at Ben. ‘So it’s really you?’ Amaka dared to hope; it looked like Ben even if there was something off about him, and not just the fact that he seemed superimposed onto the world.

‘Yes, and yet no,’ Ben explained haltingly. ‘I remember dying, with the cold and numbness overtaking me. Then, as all my sensations ended – all my feelings, from the feeling of cold to the feeling of being me… I-I can’t really describe it, but I think I died. Anyway, I was overcome with the knowledge that I could either inhabit a free space or go on into the unknown. I was scared, so I chose to become something rather than nothing, and the next thing I knew, I was the village. You see, a lot of what I just said is said with hindsight. I have no words for what it was really like. But that creature we killed wasn’t just the guardian; it had merged with the village, and without it, the village was going to die until it found me. So I am Ben, but I’m also the village. My emotions are dulled; I have needs and wants, and some of them are still human. I know there are attractive girls here, and I enjoy looking at them, but they don’t inflame my loins; it’s more like enjoying a painting. I don’t know; I’m still coming to terms with it.’

‘You’re the village?’ Amaka asked finally, after having spent a few minutes absorbing Ben’s words.

‘Yes,’ Ben stated.

‘But you’re also conscious and human?’

‘Human, not so much, but there’s still some human left, yes,’ Ben said after thinking hard.

‘So, if the needs of the village came against the needs of the people, how would you feel?’ Amaka worded her question carefully.

There was a long silence.

‘They wouldn’t; the village needs people. If the people needed something, then I’d accommodate it. One building more or less is irrelevant, but then clearing all the trees for building materials would damage the land, which would harm the people in the long term, as without nature, we’re less. We must work together for the long-term benefit; short-term aims can be altered to keep the balance, which is what I’ll tell you if I feel you’re acting rash. Yet the decision is ultimately yours,’ Ben finally concluded.

‘What if the village were to be attacked, and we had to flee? You’d be alone; wouldn’t that be a problem?’

‘I think I’m still human enough to accept that.’

‘You think? That’s not very reassuring. However, this could help. The decisions for the village are all yours. I give the land back unto itself. Back to itself? I give the land unto itself? Well, whatever; you’re part land, part person and all sentient; it’s perfect. I think my ancestors would be proud. On my father’s side anyway; on my mother’s side, not so much. Those Europeans only care about death and power.’ Amaka felt proud of her decision. She didn’t want to be tied down to a village; she wanted to explore this strange world, and this way seemed – to her at least – to be perfect.

‘You want me to control the village?’ Ben said slowly.

‘Sure. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. You’ll want us to grow so you can grow. Really, it’s the most sensible decision. Even if I wanted to take control or that prick Torent wasn’t around, it’d still be the right call. You can, can’t you?’ Amaka checked.

‘I believe so,’ Ben concurred, blinking.

‘Great. I mean, you have to do what’s best for the village because you are the village. Perfect! And I can go do this quest for Neffer Mawds, so he doesn’t send anything else. These quests are stockpiling.’

‘I’m not sure many people will be pleased…’ Ben started to say, but Amaka was already walking away.

‘The four sweetest words: somebody else’s problem,’ Amaka concluded smugly.

‘That’s three words.’

‘Not my problem anymore. There, that’s four words.’ Amaka’s voice faded as she walked away.

‘Bollocks,’ declared Ben, his voice echoing in the empty room.

*

‘There you are, Wiflebeast,’ a voice called to Amaka.

‘Don’t call me that,’ Amaka sighed, turning around. ‘It keeps making me think of “blue waffle”.’

‘My name is Epping, Epping Watt. I was wondering what your opinions are about sanctifying this venue?’ Epping added.

Name: Epping Watt

Race: mongreloid

Mongreloids are creatures with three or more mixed bloodlines. Many of the elder races – dwarfs, dyads (not to be confused with naiads or dryads), ciguapa, tennin and elves (although elves are a special case; see “elves” in your bestiary to find out more about this narcissistic race) – if not all of the elder races, look down on mongreloids as a sub-race, and as such, most mongreloids start with a curse of a negative relationship status with strangers and, occasionally, a negative charisma score.

Genus: Nothus

Affiliation: none

Specialisation: none

Class: C

State: hesitant

Level: 16

Health 800/800, stamina 800/800, magicka 800/800

Endowment: unknown

Curses: unknown

‘What do you mean by “sanctifying”?’ Amaka replied.

‘Well, we’ll want the gods to bless us – or maybe you don’t or have already. I didn’t mean to question you.’ Epping was visibly cowering as he replied.

‘What? Start from the beginning.’

‘Oh, well, I thought you knew, but it isn’t a big deal if you don’t! I didn’t mean…’ Epping swallowed, closed his eyes and breathed for a moment. ‘So it’s traditional for smaller villages to have a patron. It’s the difference between being a hamlet and village; well, one of the differences, but an easy one.’

‘Oh, okay; kinda like how cities in England need to have a cathedral to be a city.’ Amaka wasn’t sure this fact was true, but she was sure someone had told it to her. The man was so dull and boring that it was almost the only thing about him she remembered.

‘If you say so; there are other criteria, you see, but a temple with a god’s blessing bypasses the other criteria instantly, and the place becomes a village. This allows for better trade deals, the chance for a seat on any unions or alliances, and such like. Would this interest you?’ Epping didn’t stutter, but he did swallow and lick his lips a lot.

‘It sounds good, but wouldn’t that make us more of a threat to any local rulers? A new village popping up, I mean?’ Amaka checked.

‘Well… possibly. Who can say with some rulers? Yet we’re in a good place as far as that goes; no rulers would come all the way out here, and we aren’t particularly close to anyone.’

‘Interesting; I like it. What’s involved?’

‘Well, you’d need to commission a place to build a temple or church, or designate a sacred garden – depending on the nature of the god you wish to appeal to. However, there’s a man here – Father Bloxby – who’s in good standing and is willing to set up a place of worship here. If you wish, he could have his deity bless our village,’ Epping said, growing in confidence.

Amaka rubbed her chin. ‘Interesting; however, I have a god, so I think she’d be pissed off if I gave this chance to someone else.’

Epping threw his hands up and stepped back. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean to be forward.’

Amaka waved away his protestations. ‘You weren’t; it’s a good idea. So what do I need to do to offer my goddess a chance to bless us?’

‘Well, it depends on her nature. Perhaps a nice statue?’ Epping suggested.

However, Amaka shook her head. ‘That wouldn’t work. She’s a very ephemeral goddess – more than most. She’s like the dark; you shine a light and the dark is gone. How’d you build a statue to the dark?’ Amaka meant is as a rhetorical question, but Epping had an answer.

‘Those types of gods are usually happy with blank plinths or empty pedestals.’

‘Really? Well, that could work,’ Amaka pondered, rubbing her chin once more.

‘Sure, lots of gods are esoteric or have essences that are impossible to capture in a static image.’

Epping shrugged. ‘And if you’re still interested, Father Bloxby can also set up a place of worship; he’s already said he doesn’t mind his god being the lesser in standing.’

‘I’d have thought that being a god means having an ego.’

Epping nodded. ‘Usually, but you know that they sometimes don’t get a choice, and some of them are, well, more pious than others. You should have a word with him.’

*

Amaka did. She approached the old man, who was stoking a fire, his long beard toying with the fire as it came close to burning many times. He looked up, spotted Amaka, smiled, took a large metal kettle off the fire and made a pot of tea.

‘Care to join me?’ he asked.

‘Sure, thanks. Are you this priest I’ve been hearing so much about – Father Bloxby?’ Amaka enquired.

‘That’s me! Luciano Bloxby, Father Bloxby, Old Man or Grandad Bee – I’ve worn many hats over the years,’ Luciano said with a smile; it was clearly a smile he was comfortable with – and one he’d used a lot throughout the years.

‘How can you be a priest with so many competing gods; doesn’t it get confusing?’ Amaka asked as she took a steaming cup of a green-coloured tea.

‘Not at all; all the gods have different personalities. I’m a priest of Mrs Ogg; she doesn’t claim to be the true god, nor does she mind the presence of other gods. She’s a god of community, you see, so she’s very affable.’

‘But surely, with so many gods exhorting the virtue of so many different values, well, there must be competition, arguments and holy wars?’

‘There have been many, but I’ve found a way to accept others and yet not have their viewpoints offend my own.’

‘Really? That sounds either too good to be true or a trick. So what are you doing here?’

‘Just because I accept others doesn’t mean they accept me. Many are offended by my seeming lack of conviction and confrontation. I’ve been attacked, robbed, left for dead and insulted many times. Yet I can’t travel indefinitely. Mrs Ogg requires the presence of others. As I say, she’s a god of community, so I’ve come to be one with your community, to listen to their woes and offer a shoulder when needed. When I’m left to myself, I shall spend my time building my church – with your permission – and praying to Mrs Ogg.’

‘For strength and virtue and things?’

Father Bloxby shook his head. ‘When I pray, I think about the questions I have; I search out questions that it hasn’t occurred to me to ask, and I enjoy praying over them.’

‘You pray for answers?’

‘No, I don’t wish for answers; I seek questions and pray for ideas.’

‘That makes no sense.’

‘Let me explain. I believe that answers are the cause of conflict, but I love questions. Life is full of questions, and I love challenging my mind with the questions and coming up with ideas. But this is where I can’t be offended: I don’t call them answers, simply ideas. You have a different idea? Fantastic, let’s share them. Because mine’s just an idea, it isn’t absolute like an answer is. Answers can lead to pride, narcissism, doctrine or xenophobia. These thoughts are walls, boundaries and restrictions, and they cause isolation because they lead to the thought that anyone with differing ideas is dangerous and can mislead through their philosophy. However, questions lead to ideas and thoughts, fluidity, community and acceptance of others, as they add to our better understanding of the question. These thoughts are boundless, open and global. If we both have the same questions, we can exchange ideas, as long as neither of us claims to know the truth, but simply a truth.’

‘What about faith? Isn’t faith an absolute?’

‘I don’t believe so; that’s why it’s called “faith” and not “knowledge”. Faith is about feelings and emotions; someone who tries to prove or disprove faith through reason is missing the meaning of faith. Faith is a lack of answers and a search for ideas. Answers are facts – science – not faith. In order to have a debate, we must both agree that neither of us knows the answer and instead debate who has the best ideas. Debate requires both sides to be open to the idea that they’re wrong; if you have the answer, you can’t be wrong. That’s the point of an answer. If you stick to ideas, and you create rules and commands, then these become old and stale. They must die so something new can replace them, like a flower. Communities aren’t meant to last forever; they’re meant to adapt and change as time brings around new needs and challenges. Kingdoms and empires die eventually because they don’t change, and yet strictures from religion are mean to last eternally? We must understand that these are fluid, or they’ll become outmoded and cause more conflict than they solve.’

‘But surely some ideas are wrong? My father believes that humans are actually aliens! He says this because animals are comfortable in the world and they have climates they thrive in, yet humans transform all parts of the Earth in order to be comfortable. Not too cold, not too hot, not too dry and not too humid. It’s almost as though we didn’t evolve on this planet at all.’

‘An interesting idea, and indeed many people believe in the universal dragon and thus would agree with him. This is a dragon that was killed, and from its body and essence, all we see was created, except for humans, who were taken from a different reality to populate this planet. Perhaps that is indeed why we terraform the environment as you say, because we’re from somewhere with a steady temperature.’

Amaka frowned; she’d forgotten for a moment she wasn’t on Earth.

‘Bad example, then. What about rights and freedoms? For example, freedom of speech; how can that ever be outdated?’

‘Odd. Why would you need the ability to speak to be a rule? Who creates rules for affirmatives?’

‘What? There are loads of positive rules, such as… such as… the freedom not to be harassed by… No, wait that’s not how it’s worded. Anyway, there are laws about how the police are allowed to treat you: the freedom to have access to a lawyer! There, that’s a positive rule.’

‘If you have such a rule, it means someone is stopping you from seeing one.’

‘Fine, I’ll try a different argument. What about bad ideas? The idea that homosexuality should be punished; why must we allow people to think like that?’

‘Perhaps if there are only two people left on the planet, then homosexuality would doom the species.’

‘That’s a rather extreme example.’

Father Bloxby shrugged. ‘I never said I agreed with the idea to begin with. I’m just playing devil’s advocate.’

‘But we can’t argue over everything; there must be some answers.’

‘Of course. If I give you a copper farthing, which is a coin worth twenty-five bronze where I’m from, and the price was five bronze, then we can agree you owe me twenty bronze. But as for questions such as “Why are we here?”; “Which god is the strongest?”; and “Which is the true god?” – these questions can only give us ideas, not answers.’

‘Huh, Douglas Adams said, “We demand rigidly refined areas of doubt and uncertainty.” I think I finally understand what he meant.’

‘An interesting point, and did he write this in a thesis? I’d be interested to read his ideas.’

‘What? No, it was in a fiction book. I don’t think you’d like him; he was an atheist and compared the quest for theology to a sentient puddle.’

‘How so?’

‘Well, he imagined a puddle had sentience. You know how water flows and fills up whatever it’s put in? He said that if a puddle had sentience, it would believe that the universe was created just for that one puddle, because it filled up the hole it sat in perfectly. Yet it’s water, and water always fills up whatever it’s in, so that puddle was just filling the available space, the same as life making humans.’

‘Interesting, and yet he misses the point. Who gave that puddle sentience? That’s the role of the gods.’

‘I’m not sure that was the point.’

‘And yet it is. Or perhaps it isn’t?’ Father Bloxby concluded with a chuckle. ‘What’s the right question? An interesting question in itself, no?’

‘You’re a strange man, Father Bloxby. But sure, you can build your church here. Personally, I think that a church is the bedrock of any community; it’s just a shame that the pope exists. Sitting on his golden throne in his personal mansion with his private militia in his own city! He’s lost what it means to be religious. How can that man preach piety?’ Amaka coughed, remembering herself.

‘Anyway, I love an old church.’