Chapter 6: Being a Believer in the 29th Century

Ada’s enthusiasm for religion had waned, but any activity was better than staying confined in her room. She asked what temple they were visiting, and as the elevator descended into the abyss, Sol explained that it used to be called “The District of Temples,” but the temples, despite their relatively peaceful coexistence, each wanted to claim the space for themselves. Religions don’t like to share territory.

The elevator opened onto a much darker plaza. The suspended city’s glass walls overlooked parts of the abyss where sunlight no longer reached but where phosphorescent plants and creatures thrived, bathing the area in green, violet, and blue tones, with constantly shifting golden highlights.

A drone floated cheerfully toward Ada. “Jesus loves you, you know?”

Ada asked who Jesus was, but Sol took her hand and moved them along, saying they didn’t have time. Ada’s attention was caught by a makeshift stall on wooden trestles, manned by a humanoid robot with exposed parts. A banner read: “Want to earn LOTS of THALERS by bringing JOY to others? We help you create your OWN RELIGION!”

Sol led Ada to an immense building, bypassing what Ada thought was the statue of a giant serpent with thick white fur, its diameter larger than Sol was tall. It turned out to be a Xeno, dozing in the cold and snoring in a strangely familiar manner.

The building rose like a magnificent white manta ray, its interior made of polished wood. Hundreds of seats on pews faced a large cross. Apart from three Xenos—one as small as a mouse—all deeply immersed in prayer, the place was empty. A faint scent of incense lingered, and ethereal organ music seemed to drift down from paradise.

“Catholic Church,” murmured Sol, crossing herself. “The discovery of the Xenos slightly dampened the Vatican’s fervor, but they’ve adapted well. It’s the most popular human religion, with one billion followers, of whom Xenos now make up the majority.”

A large sign read:

FOUR QUESTIONS FOR THE CATHOLIC CHURCH OF THE 3RD MILLENNIUM

1. Why weren’t Xeno civilizations visited by our Lord Jesus, and why don’t they venerate the Cross?

In His infinite wisdom, God sent His Son to all these civilizations, and in each, He endured His Passion. However, Jesus neither bore the human name nor appearance we know. Just as we wear spacesuits or protective gear on alien worlds, God adapted to them. God loves them, and the Xenos are our brothers, whom we must love.

2. As a Catholic, should I upload my consciousness to the After before my death?

For Catholics, only God can separate the soul from the body. According to instructions from Pope Pius XVII, we die at the moment of the transfer to the servers; however, this is not considered suicide, which is a mortal sin. Priests take a vow at ordination not to transfer to the After or allow themselves to be emulated by AIs (although there is a Catholic Church in the After, with ordinations, to guide our lost faithful). The After is unnecessary: at the end of time, our bodies and souls will be resurrected to bask in the light of our Lord.

3. Do AIs have souls?

AIs and robots do not have souls, even if they appear human. You are free to love them and mourn them, for God is in all things, both of the Earth and the heavens.

4. How does the Church view the Transients?

The Transients are highly advanced Xenos, to us as we are to animals. However intelligent or miraculous their feats may seem, they are nothing compared to the omnipotence of the Creator God, whose children they also are. This is so true that no Transient has ever refuted it.

“After?” Ada had heard the term once or twice in The Crew of Captain Wau. A mysterious place? It left her with more questions as she left Calchas Church than when she entered.

Surrounding the Church were various chapels of strange and sometimes sinister cults. Throughout the history of many Xeno civilizations, a Transient from another world always arrived sooner or later to save them from extinction—whether due to climate upheaval, internal wars, or depleted resources. Officially, before the discovery of certain ruins on Mars, no Transient had ever altered human history, but there were indeed cults that equated Jesus or other great religious figures with a Transient.

Transients appeared in many forms: on one world, as a shining sphere; on another, as a pyramid; sometimes as an animal, music, or even an equation.

A spider-like creature, its legs seemingly mutilated and a drone attached to its body, growled through the drone at Ada, who was staring at a chalice oozing blood of various colors.

“Hey, little girl, want ETERNAL LIFE? The Holy Transient of Gobbo’s green plains grants blessings to those who make a worthy sacrifice. Give it your pretty eyes.”

“Absolutely not,” Sol said, gripping Ada’s hand.

“Wait, you can get better eyes installed upstairs on floor 14. And you’ll have ETERNAL LIFE!”

“Where’s Gobbo?” Ada asked.

“Not far from Ur, not far from Jerimadeth...” the grotesque spider sang.

Sol pulled Ada away, heading toward the grand Xeno temples.

In the Xeno wing, the plaza was illuminated by a large globe—a holographic projection with clustered dots moving across its surface. Ada, with her mathematical background, recognized them as Cellular Automata: abstract robots that move according to specific rules, a concept that fascinated her.

Around the globe, various Xenos worshipped. If they had knees, they knelt; if they had arms, they spread them; and if they possessed eyes, they closed them in devotion. Among them was a Xeno from N’Pali, a moon of Lancaster—the largest world beyond Ariel—with four arms and a shield-shaped head; anti-cyclopes, tiny mice covered in eyes, living in hive-like packs; and a dense, dark vapor likely concealing a cautious Catoptromelane, a humanoid creature that appeared as your desires. There were many others, including a few humans who prostrated themselves in reverence.

“The Great Open Temple of the Blind Gods,” Sol explained. “It’s the one great religion that unites us all in the end.”

“The Blind Gods, like in The Crew of Captain Wau?”

“Yes, those. But don’t tell the Xenos that you watch fictions about the Blind Gods—it might upset them. Many Xenos don’t understand lies or fiction.”

“Why does everyone believe in the Blind Gods? Have we met them?”

“Well, a few rare religions have mentioned them for quite some time. It’s a troubling coincidence ... though, in the end, being blind seems to be a godly thing, doesn’t it? The real reason is that we’ve asked, and still regularly ask, the Transients if they know the Gods. Generally, they avoid answering, but when it comes to the Blind Gods, they mysteriously suggest that they might be their gods.”

“The Transients’ gods?”

“Yes, which tells you just how powerful they must be, right?”

“And why the Conway’s Game patterns on the globe?”

“Excuse me, what are you talking about?”

“The patterns on the globe, Sol. Are they the Blind Gods? Because that’s a math thing. We could play it if you want.”

“Oh yeah? That’s funny. You know a lot, Ada. But I’ve heard something like that before. The Blind Gods are thought to be mathematical gods. Because mathematics exists without us. All of us—even the Transients, who are gods themselves—need something. But mathematics exists without needing anything. In fact, it doesn’t even need a universe to exist.”

Not far from the globe stood an imposing structure shaped like an inverted V. Its design seemed so precarious that if built from traditional materials, it would have collapsed. Inside, it was perfectly dark.

A lanky Xeno, resembling the Nagas of human mythology, stood within. Humanoid, perched on a broad snake-like tail, partially hidden by a long blue robe, it towered over Sol by at least a meter. Its triangular head bore three elongated eyes. Strangely, it held a paper book in one of its many tiny arms.

“The Temple of Those-Who-Wait isn’t suited to the natural human visual spectrum. I told them. They don’t care. They say there are no humans among Those-Who-Wait. By doing nothing—not even adding a small light for your spectrum—they discourage any change in the situation. It’s quite inconsiderate. Calchas-3 is a human world.”

“Wow, mister, you’re super tall!” Ada exclaimed.

“And you speak HS dialect perfectly without any AI assistance,” Sol added. “I don’t think I know your people, priest.”

The Xeno made an esoteric gesture, murmuring, “The Armor, the Pilgrim, and the Messenger,” then shook its head and continued:

“I am not ‘mister.’ Address me without gendered terms. Call me Grand Serpent. We have too many genders to associate names with them. I am OOA, which means I carry the O gender from two ancestors and one A gender. I am a member of the dominant species of Hume-7—a hot, humid world with many oceans. Not all of us are scholars, madam, nor are we all peaceful. Be cautious of my kind. But not of me.”

“Are you a priest of Those-Who-Wait?”

“No.” (He gestured to his book, which was a mysterious artifact to Ada.) “I am not even of the Cult of Parallel World Survivors like some of my people. I follow the Humble Epic of All Life.”

“Could you tell us about these three religions?” Sol asked. “Oh, I’m Solstice.”

“Those-Who-Wait,” Grand Serpent began. “A very old religion. Disdained. Sometimes even persecuted. On many worlds. Large temples. Few followers. Not very friendly. They believe in an advanced race, more powerful than the Transients—not the Blind Gods. They call them the Travelers. The Travelers move backward through time. For every second we move into the future, Madam Solstice, they move a second into the past. We intersect with the Travelers, but we cannot see them, nor they us. We pass each other too quickly.”