Authors: Alan Dean Foster
“Twikanrozex,” the thranx said, enunciating it slowly for her.
She smiled gratefully at him. “Don’t you think Mr. Twikanrozex might be a little tired? Maybe he needs to rest.”
“For a little while,
crr!!ckk
.” Briann could see that Twikanrozex was breathing hard but was far from exhausted. Clearly, the little girl would have been happy to bounce along on his back all day.
“Say thank you to Mr. Twikanrozex,” her father ordered.
Walking up to the thranx, the girl extended a hand. Instead of proffering one of his own, Twikanrozex leaned forward and brushed her open palm with the tips of both antennae. She clutched at her hand, giggling.
“That tickles!”
“A last smile.” The thranx stepped back. “Perhaps I’ll see you again before the fair is over, little one.”
“I hope so, Mr. Twikanrozex. Thank you for the buggy ride.” Turning, she placed her right hand in her mother’s and looked up. “Can we get ice cream now? I’m hungry!”
“I’m sure you are, after all that hopping around.” The woman looked back at Twikanrozex and beamed. There was no trace of the uncertainty and hesitation that had marked her initial approach. It was utterly gone. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Raising a truhand and a foothand, Twikanrozex imitated the simplistic human gesture of farewelling. “Another time.” As soon as the couple and their daughter were out of earshot, he turned to his companion.
“How did it go?”
“The seed is well planted. Like most, he tried to affect disinterest. And like most who take the time to ask questions and to listen, he’s interested. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or even until he’s back home months from now, but he’ll definitely research the Church.” Briann chuckled. “Nothing like telling them you don’t want their money to pique their interest.”
“That’s good. The larv—the little girl was fun. Human children are so full of energy.”
“That’s a difference between us. Thranx larvae think before they act. Human children act before they think. Of course, being hatched with functional limbs has a lot to do with it.”
“Yes.” Twikanrozex sighed softly. “Many’s the time I remember lying in the nursery longing for the day when I would be able to pupate and emerge with arms and legs. Your kind is fortunate in that fashion.”
“It does make us more impulsive, though.” Together, they resumed their walk. Briann badly wanted to see the demonstration of thranx acrobatic music, while Twikanrozex was fascinated by everything around them. Simply being on a human-colonized world was entertainment enough for him.
They had come prepared to deal with all manner of possible problems, of protests and objections. But the last thing they expected to have to deal with was competition.
They did not think of it that way, of course, but the cluster of well-dressed young humans who surrounded them in front of one of the numerous water sculptures contributed by the thranx hydrosculptors of Willow-Wane felt otherwise.
“We’ve been hearing about you.” The young man who spoke was tall, slim, handsome, and syrupy of voice.
“Already?” Briann glanced at Twikanrozex, who could not disguise his apprehension at being surrounded by so many exceedingly intent, larger humans.
“And we decided we had to do something about it.” The woman wore her hair cropped short, like her syllables. “Before it got out of hand.”
Briann was not yet ready to begin looking for fair security personnel, but the idea that he might have to do so had crept rapidly to the forefront of his thoughts. “That sounds ominous. Who are you, and what do you want?”
Members of the enclosing circle looked at one another in apparent disbelief before their spokesman turned back to Briann. “You don’t recognize our garments? The white suits and dresses, the decorations of virtuous gold?”
“I’m afraid we don’t.”
It was the woman’s turn. “We represent the Unity of Traditional Religions, Dawn branch. We were informed that an odd pair, consisting of human and thranx, were proselytizing here at the fair on behalf of some new cult. As representatives of the old beliefs carried out from Earth, we felt it incumbent on us to seek you out, and to appraise your message.”
Another woman spoke up. “You understand, there are a lot of children here.”
“The United Church makes no distinction between children and adults,” Briann explained. “Only between intelligence and nonintelligence. The two do not always evolve in parallel.” It would have been an excellent moment to eye the young leader of the white-clad group meaningfully, but Church protocol strictly forbade the application of sarcasm at the personal level.
“Or between humans and aliens?” another woman wondered aloud.
Briann nodded in Twikanrozex’s direction. “My thranx friend is not an alien; he is only nonhuman. Again, we clearly differ in some of our definitions.”
“There’s no provision in terrestrial theology for sentients that are not created in God’s image,” another man declared with complete conviction.
“Many of us feel similarly,” Twikanrozex replied calmly.
That put a momentary halt to the questioning as the assembled devoted murmured among themselves. The two representatives of the United Church waited patiently. Patience was among the first qualities they were taught. It was becoming clear that these young folk meant no physical harm. They wanted only to assure themselves that the eccentric couple were not bent on seducing human children to the ways of evil. Briann and Twikanrozex could deal with that. The United Church had firm ideas of its own about evil: It was against it.
“How can you offer to minister to something that looks like that?” The woman who had first spoken stared unashamedly at Twikanrozex. “That aroma, though . . .”
“Shapeism is to be abhorred in all things,” Briann pointed out. “Intelligence marked by understanding and compassion are the hallmarks of a spiritual being. We don’t go into specifics. Every species seeks the answers to the ultimate questions in its own way. The Church doesn’t attempt to define them, or to restrict them.”
“Then how,” another man wondered, “can you offer solace?” His friend tried to interrupt, but the younger man, now curious, shrugged him off.
Twikanrozex gestured with all four hands, wondering if any of the humans would respond in kind. They did not, but neither were they visibly repulsed. He was encouraged. “Sympathy does not demand to be underwritten by dogma. Pain is a universal constant that may be assuaged by any concern irrespective of source.”
“We don’t feel the need to speak a lot of mumbo jumbo to help someone feel better,” Briann added.
Several among the white-clad looked upset. “You speak blasphemy,” one insisted.
“Fluently,” Briann assured her. “Our organization has no truck with archaic attempts to help people by filling them up with guilt. Ample guilt is acquired soon enough, through the mere process of living. The last thing any sentient needs is the unrequested addition of external culpability. How many of you feel guilty about something?”
The several expressions of concern that appeared in reaction to Briann’s question were drowned out by the loud words of the young spokesman. “Look here, we’re the ones asking the questions! We’re the ones who’ll determine whether you’ll be allowed to continue to work this fair or not.”
“Firstly,
ci!!llp
,” Twikanrozex began, “we are not ‘working’ this fair. We confront no one, pressure no one, seek out neither individuals nor families nor groups. We only respond to questions freely directed at us. The UC does not seek converts. There is nothing to convert people to. We have nothing like official membership. The Church and its services are freely available to anyone who is interested.”
“What happens,” another woman demanded to know as she pushed her way forward, “if someone chooses to participate in your church? What happens to their former religion?”
“Annamarie,” the man next to her began warningly. She ignored him.
“Whatever you wish to happen.” Briann was warming to the discussion, now that it had turned into a discussion and away from unfounded accusations. “You may continue to practice as you did before encountering our organization. There are participants in the United Church who practice many religions, and participants who espouse none at all. We are very undemanding.”
“How can someone belong to two churches and champion two different beliefs?” the woman persisted.
“Beliefs?” Twikanrozex waved his truhands in her direction. “We don’t require that you believe in anything.”
The spokesman’s brows drew together. “What kind of a church is it that doesn’t require belief?”
Briann smiled invitingly. “A new kind. Try it and see. You’ll find it remarkably liberating. Most who come to us do.”
The young man drew himself up. “I’m already liberated—by the knowledge that I am following the one true path.”
“Of course you are!” Briann responded exuberantly. “All of you are, no matter what your particular individual belief. Realizing that allows you to participate freely in the UC.”
One heavyset fellow on the edge of the group was nodding knowingly. “I understand now.” He smiled at his associates. “We have nothing to fear from these people, or from their establishment—because they’re crazy. They argue in circles.”
“That is it!” Twikanrozex gestured vigorously. “We argue in circles, just like the universe. In the same fashion as a gravitational lens bends light so that you can see behind large stellar objects, the United Church bends reason so that you can see the truths that hide behind reality.”
“We’re wasting our time here.” The spokesman, now satisfied that the two robed preachers, or whatever they were, represented no threat to the established theological order, turned away. “The girot mimes from Coolangatta are starting their show soon. We still have time to hop a transport and get there before the opening.”
The white-clad gathering began to fall away—but not quite all of them. A pair lingered: the woman Annamarie and a male friend. Ignoring the admonishments of their companions, they remained behind. They were curious, which is the first step toward enlightenment. Briann and Twikanrozex were delighted to accommodate their many questions. The man went so far as to buy Briann a cup of mochoka and Twikanrozex a helix of
cherel!l
tea. The four of them sat sipping and chatting for several hours. When the conversation was finally brought to an end by the woman named Annamarie, the two priestly acolytes watched the young humans depart still deep in conversation.
“There are good folk here.” Twikanrozex sucked the last liquid from the bottom of his nearly empty turbinate. “People willing to listen.”
“Yes.” Briann scanned the milling crowds. “I would have wished for more thranx, though.”
“The larger contingents will not be arriving for a day or two yet,” Twikanrozex pointed out. “All have to come from offworld, and only the boldest will consider attending a function on a human-settled colony. But they will come, rest assured. My people are irresistibly drawn to the neoteric.”
“I hope I can meet some and convince them of the kindly nature of my species,” Briann murmured. “I’ve lost weight specifically for that purpose.”
“It was a good thing for you to do,” Twikanrozex told him. “Too much jiggling of loose human flesh can nauseate even the most courteous and well-disposed thranx. It is a reaction as unfortunate as it is involuntary.”
“Not to mention one that’s likely to put a damper on casual conversation,” Briann noted dryly.
From time to time they would wander back to the automated display that had been set up and activated on the first day of the fair, both to ensure that it was functioning properly and to deal with individuals and sometimes small groups that had gathered there. Accustomed after the first couple of days to all manner of reactions, they encountered an entirely new one when, on the third morning, they confronted a well-dressed man in his early forties who was viewing one of the tridee hover messages while chuckling constantly.
“Usually,” Briann offered by way of greeting, “our presentation meets with skepticism, or open hostility, or indifference, or interest. You’re the first person we’ve met whose primary reaction has been laughter.”
“Oh, hello.” Turning, the man grinned at Briann, eyed Twikanrozex with more than casual interest, and reached up to dab at his face with an absorptive pad. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“None taken,” Twikanrozex clicked. His response intrigued the man even more.
“So you’re a thranx. I’ve seen a number wandering about the fair, but mostly they’re working displays and performances. It’s nice to finally meet one of you in person.”
“The touch be mine.” Twikanrozex extended a truhand, which gesture humans found less alien than the caress of feathery antennae. The man took it, was surprised to find his own gently shaken, and withdrew his fingers thoughtfully.
“The actual contact is warmer than I thought it would be. Not crustaceanlike at all. Do you see multiple images of me out of those compound eyes?”
“While multiple images are perceived,” Twikanrozex replied, “they are linked in my mind to create a single image. Our eyes are more advanced than those of the terrestrial insects whom you are utilizing for reference.”
“Not from Earth, myself.” The man shrugged. “New Paris, actually.” He indicated the lively display. “Your church sounds interesting. Complete waste of time, of course.”
“In what way?” Briann was silently disconcerted by the casual dismissal from so obviously intelligent and interested an observer.
“Too many religions already. Humankind’s got a house full of ‘em. Always has. Every year, every month, it seems like a new fad pops up, attracts a horde of eager adherents, and then just as quickly fades away. At best, that’s what you’re looking at.” He smiled approvingly at Twikanrozex. “Although with the thranx involved you certainly have real novelty value going for you.”
Briann could tell from the man’s tone and attitude that he was in no way trying to be offensive. He was simply stating his mind.
“We who believe think that you’re wrong.” Twikanrozex added a whistle of conviction.
“Well, without a doubt you would.” The man’s good nature continued to shine through his disparaging words. “But I’ve spent some years in the business of fads, done pretty well out of it, and I know whereof I speak. Just a friendly warning: Make sure you have some kind of professional position to fall back on when it all goes flat. How are you doing here, by the way?” Briann mentioned a number. The man was suitably impressed.