“Olivia is correct,” said Katie. Everyone turned to look at her. I think a lot of them had forgotten what her voice sounded like.
“Katie? Do you have something to add?” I asked. She looked at me.
“Religion can be used to justify any atrocity. My enemies sustained their society with a religion of hatred and revenge. They re-edited every video file from the Second Machine War to prove we were evil and fought a holy war with no diplomacy. Their soldiers would not surrender when defeated. They would not accept our surrender at the end of the war. Their religion was an excuse for genocide.”
No one knew what to say, until Iokan broke in. “Is that all religion was used for on your world?”
“That was the primary purpose: the justification of criminal activity.”
“Hah! You see?” exclaimed Olivia to Iokan, but he hid his irritation.
“The Soo were the same,” muttered Pew. He looked up, a little surprised as everyone looked at him. “Well, they… they had lots of religions. But they all said the same thing about us.”
“What was that?” I asked.
“We were destined to be slaves. Or god created us as slaves. Or one said that anyone that couldn’t look after themselves deserved to be slaves. Or we didn’t have souls, so it was okay to enslave us because we didn’t really feel pain. They were all the same. It just gave them an excuse to do whatever they wanted with us.”
“Did you have a religion of your own? Before you were captured?” asked Iokan.
“That was different,” said Pew. “It wasn’t… we didn’t really have a religion. Not like the Soo did.”
“But you had some kind of spirituality?”
Pew smiled, just a little. “Spirituality. Yeah. Something like that. Lots of spirits. The Polar Bear had a spirit. The Beluga had a spirit. Storms were spirits.”
“So a kind of… primitive animism?”
Pew’s smile vanished. “…Yeah. I suppose you’d call it that. We did all those things you see in anthropology videos. Like saying sorry to the seal because you killed it. Praying to the spirit of the spear so it’d fly true. Putting the dead under the ice where all the spirits were.” He grew bitter. “Do you know what else we thought was a spirit? Illness. It was called Ikti. Ikti opened the tent flap for Akkikit. That was death. Maybe if we hadn’t been primitive animists we’d have known about germs and we wouldn’t have died.”
“I didn’t mean to imply anything—” protested Iokan.
“Nobody ever does,” muttered Pew.
“It’s not primitive,” said Kwame. Pew looked up at him. “We were the same. We prayed to spirits. Such as… spirits of buildings, and railways, and cities, as well as rivers and forests and lakes. It was comforting to think something was holding a house together, more than nails or rivets or girders.”
“What did you do when the building was sick?” asked Pew.
Kwame smiled gently. “We found a priest to ask it what the trouble was. And a structural engineer to do the same.” His smile faded. “Or latterly we asked only the structural engineer. And sometimes not even him…”
“Was religion in decline on your world, then?” asked Iokan.
“My whole world was in decline. But… yes. Less and less people went to the temples. The priests grew poor without payment for blessings. If I were a moralist — and I am not — I would say the spirits took revenge on a world that ignored them.” He shook his head. “Perhaps it is coincidence… but people had no sense of shame in the last few years. Openly kissing in public! You would have been arrested for that in my youth.”
“And you’re not a moralist…” muttered Olivia.
“You may sneer, but religion has a place. It teaches proper behaviour, it shows us how to have respect for the world and our betters. No one had respect for anything at the end.”
“Oh, and did the bombs have spirits too?”
Kwame’s look turned to exasperation. “Some priests said nuclear weapons had spirits, as a sword has a spirit. Some said they had no spirit at all and that was what was wrong with them.”
“Well, if you don’t respect a gun, it’s liable to go off and take your hand with it, eh? Is that what happened with your bomb? The big one?”
Kwame bristled. “I had every respect for the device.”
“Yeah, that’s why you set the bloody thing off—”
“Olivia,” I said. “Before you go on, I’d like to hear from Liss. She hasn’t spoken yet. Liss?”
“Hm?” she said, surprised as always to be called on. “Oh. Well. It’s all a bit dumb, isn’t it?”
“How so?” asked Iokan.
“Well. It’s silly. Gods and spirits and all that stuff. It’s just superstition. It’s like these old guys from thousands of years ago and they don’t know what life’s like now, so what’s the point?”
“Is there nothing in your world beyond normal human understanding?” asked Iokan.
“Oh, sure! Scientists are crazy, aren’t they? I mean, who understands what goes on in their heads. One minute they’re doing all the stuff with test tubes, next thing you know they’ve got all these mutant bug things everywhere and they have to get the big guys in to clear it up. You know what I mean?”
There was a second of pause while everyone failed to understand a word she said.
“Doesn’t that ever happen on your world?” she asked, honestly perplexed at the stares she was getting.
“No, Liss. Your universe is… a little unusual,” I said.
“Oh. Well,” she shrugged with a smile.
“I wonder…” said Iokan to the group in general. “I wonder what you would do if you met your gods? Or spirits?”
“I’d choke the bastards,” said Olivia. “All twelve of them. And anyone who says they were good and kind and decent.”
“…Isn’t that a little harsh?” asked Iokan.
“No,” said Kwame. “The spirits on my world were supposed to protect us as long as we made offerings. They had cause for complaint, I suppose you could say. But in the end they did nothing.”
“You were spared, though. Do you think they might have had anything to do with that?” asked Iokan.
“Spared? You call this spared?” demanded Olivia. “I had to watch I don’t know how many people eaten alive and now I have to listen to you and I don’t know which is worse!”
“But what if there was a plan? What if your survival was the point?”
“You show me someone whose plan is to let billions of people die and I’ll show you a bastard deserves to suffer. And if I ever see one of your Anteshitters I’ll tell them that to their face.”
Iokan’s pitying tone came back. “The Antecessors only came for us out of kindness—”
“Well if your species is anything like you, then I suppose killing you all was a kindness…”
Iokan paused for a moment. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
Olivia scented that he’d finally taken offence. “Wasn’t much of a species, was it, if you’re all going to slit your wrists the first time you take some mushrooms.”