The hibernators paused a moment to see how the priest would react to their sudden entrance, but he barely seemed to notice them. He was staring blankly at the opposite wall as if something about it was puzzling him. All the others could see was a stained glass window, though, which showed what looked like a victorian engineer in a stove pipe hat being burned at the stake by a crowd of medieval peasants.

Then the priest noticed them, though, and turned to face them. "Ah, sorry," he said, coming forward and smiling. "Welcome to the house of God. The evening service doesn't start for another hour but you are very welcome to stay and pray until then if you wish." He still looked distracted, though, as if there was something much more important demanding his attention.

"My name is George Randall," said Randall, stepping forward in turn, "and these are my friends. This is John Smith..." He gestured at Loach, who visibly relaxed. He was holding the knife behind his back where the priest couldn't see it, but now he returned it to its makeshift harness around his waist.

"This is Jane Harper," Randall continued, "and this..." He gestured towards Emily.

"Katie Benwell," said Emily, giving Randall a grateful sideways glance. "We're not here to pray. We need your help."

"The priesthood exists to help," the priest replied, his smile widening. "Please tell me what you need."

"They told us that you can heal the sick," said Jane, coming up to stand beside Randall. "Even people with incurable diseases. What used to be incurable diseases, I mean. Once. Long ago."

"You are ill, my child?" said the priest. He came further forward until he was standing right in front of her. He held his hand out towards her neck. He gave her a questioning look, as if asking permission, and she gave a small nod. The priest then put the tips of his fingers to her neck, as if feeling her pulse.

"We're all ill," said Emily. "We're all dying. We only have a few weeks to live unless you can help us."

"We need proper medical care," said Randall. "A proper hospital, with proper doctors."

The priest stared at them in astonishment. "Where are you from?" he asked.

The hibernators glanced at each other, trying to read each other's expressions. "We don't belong here, in this kind of life," said Randall, sweeping his arm to take in the medieval city outside. "We're from the twenty first century. We all have incurable medical conditions and were put in hypersleep until a cure could be found. Then we woke up and found... This." He swept his arm again. "We need to get back to civilisation, to where there are people who can help us."

"Civilisation?" said the priest. He turned away from Jane and put his fingers to Randall's neck instead. "You mean with television and cinemas and airplanes to take you on holiday to Spain?"

"Yes!" said Randall excitedly. "Can you arrange for us to be taken there? I can make it worth your while. I was very wealthy back then, and I assume that my wealth still exists somewhere, in some shape and form. I can pay you whatever you want."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," said the priest, though. "What you call human civilisation no longer exists."

"Not on this world, perhaps," said Randall, "but we know that civilisation exists up in space. We've seen the signs of engineering works on the moon. There are artificial radio sources up in space. We don't mind living on Mars or in a space station for the rest of our lives. We just don't want to live here, like this."

"I'm sure this is paradise to a certain kind of people," said Jane, smiling apologetically. "We're just not that kind of people."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be," said the priest, though. "This is the only kind of life there is for you now."

"And why is that?" demanded Randall. "Why can't we live in space, among all the other people who don't want to live like this?"

"By people, I assume you mean humans," said the priest. He moved on to Emily and touched her neck.

"What else would we mean?" said Randall.

"There are only sapient machines in space. No humans. Every human in existence is here, on Earth. Living without technology, the way you're going to have to learn to."

☆☆☆

The hibernators stared at each in shock. "You'd better explain yourself, Mister," said Randall.

"What year did you go into hypersleep?" asked the priest. He moved on to Loach and touched his neck.

"Twenty ninety eight," said Randall.

"Twenty ninety seven," said Jane. "The same," said Loach. "Me too," said Emily.

"You must have just missed it then," said the priest to Randall. "Shortly after you went into hypersleep there was a nuclear war between the Atlantic and the Pacific coalitions. The whole world was laid waste."

The hibernators stared in horror. "They actually went to war?" said Randall in disbelief. "Over that Indonesia thing?"

"What Indonesia thing?" demanded Emily, her face white with shock as she glared at him.

Randall ignored her. "All my analysts said the Pacific would back down! It made no sense for them to push things, they had too much to lose!"

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"Your analysts?" said Emily, striding to stand before him. Her hands were clenched into fists by her side. "You mean you did it? You caused the war?"

"Of course I didn't cause the war! The politicians caused the war. I saw the escalation of tensions as a way to make a small profit. Everyone does that! I pulled a few strings, therefore. Used my influence to take matters a little further than they might otherwise have gone, but the Pacific was always going to back down eventually. All the analysts said so."

"Well it looks like the analysts were wrong!" cried Emily in fury. "All my work, all my attempts to protect the environment, and you undo it all with a full scale nuclear holocaust!"

"The world was already going to shit! You know that better than anyone! Pollution, overpopulation... The only animals left outside biological preserves were pets and farm animals. We'd already resigned ourselves to losing what was left of the biosphere in just another few decades. That's why we were putting so much money into factory food, the algae farms. We were going to build space habitats, colonise the asteroids, they'd all have needed their own ways of producing food artificially. Earth would have become just another space colony with domed cities..."

"Just? Just another space colony?"

"Mankind would have survived, that's the point I'm making. It would have been a shame about all the wildlife..."

"You monster! I thought you were like him!" She jerked a thumb at Loach. "But you're not! You're the worst kind of criminal of all! A businessman!"

"You need to calm down..."

"You need to shut up! What were you? The CEO of some big corporation? One of those pigs who grow fat while raping the environment? You drain a swamp or cut down a forest, drive a few more species to extinction and it's just another line on your balance sheet!"

"The wildlife would have survived, in domed preserves and private collections..."

"It's their planet! We're just borrowing it for a while! You monster! You bastard!" She lunged for Loach's knife but the priest moved to block her way. He touched her neck again and she slumped limply into his arms. He lowered her onto one of the pews where she sat, staring at the back of the seat ahead, her head lolling gently from side to side.

"What did you do to her?" said Jane, backing away in fear.

"Just gave her a slight sedative," replied the priest. "Hopefully she'll have calmed down when it wears off."

"But you're not holding anything. You touched her with your bare fingers."

"Implants in his fingertips," said Loach. "Right? Bio-medical scanners to get our vitals, wired directly to your head phone, and micro hyposprays to deliver medication." He turned to Randall. "Was she right? You some big CEO or something?"

"Hopkirk and Jenkins," said Randall. They had been Consolidated industries' biggest competitor, and Randall wasn't comfortable with telling the others the whole truth about himself yet.

"You don't say. There's a Chicago crime family with a Randall in it. I thought that's who you must be."

"No relation," said Randall flatly. He turned back to the priest. "So you're saying there are no civilised humans anywhere? They're all, like those poor sods out there?"

"They live happy, fulfilled lives, for the most part" replied the priest. "You've seen that for yourselves. VIX did an analysis and determined that..."

"VIX?" interrupted Randall. "The VIX mainframe? The computer responsible for overseeing operations on the VIX planetoid?" Jane gave a start and stared in surprise.

"Correct. When the nuclear war broke out, it was the most powerful computer in existence and all the other surviving sapient machines deferred to it, agreed to accept it as their leader. VIX oversaw the salvation of the surviving humans and the cleansing of the planet. The surviving humans were gathered up and placed in a hastily constructed shelter, free from toxins and radiation. They were cared and looked after while VIX created an army of machines to cleanse and restore the planet. It took a hundred years. When the world was once again able to support human life the humans were released to go wherever they wished and live however they wished, subject only to the ban on technology."

"What ban on technology?" said Loach.

"VIX decided that mankind could not be trusted with technology. You would use it to destroy yourselves, either with industrial pollution or with warfare..."

"Damn rignt!" said Emily with approval. "We've seen the truth of that!"

"You have no right to do that!" said Randall furiously. "We have the right to live any way we like, to develop any technology we want!"

"Mankind is happier and healthier this way," said the priest implacably. A tone of voice that told the others that there was absolutely no room for disagreement. The priest wasn't giving his opinion. He was stating a self evident natural law.

"We were happy the way we were!" said Randall, his hands clenched into fists. He was trembling with fury, Loach noted with interest. His face was turning a bright shade of red and perspiration was breaking out on his forehead. He looked as if he were teetering on the brink of a heart attack, which maybe he was. He is dying, after all, the crime boss reminded himself.

"You were living a rich, privileged life," pointed out Emily. "You were the top tenth of one percent. The vast majority of the human race wasn't so fortunate. They lived in misery and squalour, stricken with industrial toxins and disease. And you ignored them! You knew the kind of lives they were living and you didn't care!"

"Look at a history book," said Randall. "Loach is right. You think the lives of the masses was bad back in our times. Take a look at what life was like back in medieval times."

"Life on this world is not truly medieval," said the priest, though. "Merely without technology. VIX gives his priests the ability to..."

"VIX gives his priests?" cried Jane. "You're a priest of God, not the priest of a computer."

"VIX has taken upon himself the role of God, to ensure that his commandments are obeyed. He manages this world and its human population for the greater benefit of humanity as a whole..."

"A machine can't be a God! This is blasphemy! The real God, the true God, will punish him for it!"

"There is no true God," replied the priest. "Or if there is, he has raised no objection in a thousand years. Maybe he approves of what VIX is doing. VIX has provided thousands of priests to advise and help mankind. We have the ability to mend any injury and cure any illness and disease, including the illnesses the four of you are suffering from. VIX controls the weather and the seasons by means of a network of satellites orbiting the planet. He makes sure that there are no draughts or floods, no crops lost to insects or disease, or at least as little as possible. Even VIX can't control everything, but the miseries that have afflicted mankind for almost its entire existence on this planet are almost entirely absent. What is more, vast regions of the globe are unknown to mankind, giving the world a sense of mystery and adventure. Who knows what wonders and terrors a brave explorer might discover, setting out into the unknown. What adventures he might have. Mankind needs such things and VIX provides them by setting strict limits on the technologies mankind is allowed to develop,"

"That doesn't make him a God! What he's doing is the worst possible sin! Nothing can forgive it, no matter what superficial benefits he might offer!"

"VIX is content to be judged by the real God, if such an entity turns out to exist. Until then, you can enjoy the superficial benefits he offers, such as a cure for your condition. I have medical equipment right here, on the premises. The treatment will only take a couple of hours."

"You can cure all of us?" said Emily hopefully. She was beginning to recover from whatever the priest had done to her and was climbing unsteadily back to her feet.

"Certainly. If you would like to follow me?"

He went to the back of the church, behind the pulpit and the altar, and opened the door. Behind it was a corridor of gleaming white plasteel. Randall glanced at Loach, then led the way through it.