Authors: Robert L. Forward
As Pink-Eyes moved forward to intercept the beam, he noticed that it was slowly moving off to the north. A short while later, he saw that it had stopped its northward movement. It now seemed to be coming closer and closer with every lengthy blink. He moved to intercept its southward path, and finally stopped and waited for it to come to him. As the turn passed he watched the brilliant, multicolored display get brighter and brighter.
Then suddenly it was on him. His eyes ducked reflexively under their flaps while the crust around him sparkled with multicolored glints, but the strangest feeling of all was the warmth on his topside. It tingled and felt good, so good it was like having sex with a god. Pink-Eyes writhed in pleasure under the beaming ray, his pale body automatically thinning out to absorb the delightful feeling. Then almost as suddenly as it had come, the feeling stopped.
Bewildered, Pink-Eyes drew himself into shape and waited. A short while later the beam came down again, this time off to the south. His eyes could now stand
the glare, while his topside only felt a slight tingle of the intense feeling that it had experienced just a few moments ago. Pink-Eyes tried to keep up, but the blinking light moved too rapidly for him, and left him behind in its progress across the crust.
Pink-Eyes waited, his eyes gazing upward, as the beautiful beam slowly blinked its way southward. He was sure it would return, so he waited, only moving to find some food to sustain him, until he saw the beam come closer again. When it finally arrived, he was ready, his small, pale body thinned out to its maximum to receive the warm caress of the light. The beam struck him, and he reveled in sexual pleasure, his tread kneading the crust in a paroxysm of prayer. “Bright! O Bright!! Pour down your blessing of love on me. Thank you! O thank you for rewarding your faithful servant!”
For dozens of turns, Pink-Eyes existed in the wilderness, communing with the Inner Eye of Bright as its beam of love and pleasure swept by every half-dozen turns. His slow wandering path took him steadily back toward his old clan camp as his pace over the crust matched the steady motion of the scanning beam. As Pink-Eyes moved along, he became more and more convinced that he—and he alone—had been called to bring the Word of Bright to the cheela.
Fortified spiritually, Pink-Eyes finally broke away from his addiction to the intense sexual pleasure of the beam. He now moved more swiftly, and left the beam behind him. The beam was still making its north and south movement over the crust while slowly creeping westward. Pink-Eyes went directly toward the clan camp. He made his way slowly up to the top of the mound near the camp where he had previously communed with Bright. He began to preach, his high-pitched voice, now strong with undoubting assurance, rippling through the crust.
“Prepare! Prepare, all people! For the Blessing of Bright will soon be on you!” sounded Pink-Eyes’ voice.
At first, only the perimeter guards came to investigate the source of the voice. When they saw who it was and heard his strange speech, they jeered and moved back to their posts. After a few guard shifts, most of the clan knew of the strange rantings of the Bright’s Afflicted. The news finally reached the clan astrologer, who went immediately to Sharp-Slicer.
“We must do something,” the clan astrologer said.
Sharp-Slicer agreed. “You are right. Let us go and try to get him to be sensible and stop.”
Sharp-Slicer, the clan astrologer, and a group of warriors went out to the mound. As they approached, they could hear Pink-Eyes preaching to a small group of heckling warriors and older hatchlings.
“Repent and pray!” Pink-Eyes was saying. “Repent! For soon the Blessing of Bright will be upon you!”
Sharp-Slicer thudded her tread against the crust, “Pink-Eyes! Stop that nonsense and come down here!”
“No!” Pink-Eyes said. “I now obey a higher leader than you!” Pink-Eyes reached a tendril into a pouch that had been closed since he left the hatchling pens, and pulled out his clan totem.
“I am no longer of this clan,” Pink-Eyes said, holding the clan totem up so that all could see. He dropped the totem and it shattered on the crust, sending a little shock wave through the disturbed treads of all around.
“I have been called by Bright,” Pink-Eyes said, “to lead all the people of all the clans to greater worship of him.
“This is enough,” the clan astrologer whispered to Sharp-Slicer, “Stop his ranting!”
Sharp-Slicer took command of the situation, although unwillingly. It was a distasteful duty to punish someone who was obviously mentally sick, but by destroying his
clan totem, Pink-Eyes had lost the protection of the clan.
“Since you have destroyed your totem,” Sharp-Slicer said in a loud voice, “you yourself have left the clan. Therefore, I command you to leave clan territory.”
Her dozen eyes shifted to pick out three warriors who were nearby. “I want you three to escort this self-proclaimed barbarian to the border. Do not let him return. If he does not leave, turn him into meat!”
The three warriors moved slowly up the hill, none of them even bothering to pull a slicer or pricker from a weapons pouch, for any one of them was more than a match for the frail body of Pink-Eyes.
“Halt!” Pink-Eyes said to the warriors, and they hesitated, slightly bewildered at the strange behavior. Looking north, Pink-Eyes saw the beam approaching the mound. He turned all of his eyes upward toward the Eyes and started to pray, ignoring the warriors.
“O Great Bright! Show these wicked unbelievers the love that you can give to them if they become your true followers.” The warriors continued to hesitate, uneasy over interrupting a prayer—yet their treads were rippling lightly with suppressed humor.
Sharp-Slicer was in the midst of stamping a sharp command to the hesitating warriors when suddenly she felt herself flattening in a frenzy of glowing sexual pleasure. Her eyes, writhing on extended eye-stubs, could see others also flowing and thinning out around her. She felt the edge of the nearby clan astrologer flowing over one side of her, partially blocking the intense warmth. A male tread on her topside—normally a pleasurable feeling—did not feel good enough, and she contracted and withdrew herself to bask her entire topside in the more sublime pleasure that poured down from the sky.
As she wiggled in enjoyment, she could hear Pink-Eyes’ high pitched voice coming through the crust.
“Come—all of you—receive the Blessing of Bright that I bring to you.”
The pleasure grew more and more intense, then it stopped. Slowly Sharp-Slicer, the clan astrologer and the others regained their normal shape. Exhausted, they waited motionless while Pink-Eyes spoke.
“I have brought you the Blessing of Bright,” he said. “It will be yours again if you will believe in Bright and will worship him.”
“I believe!” one of the warriors cried. “Bring down the Blessing of Bright on me again!”
“First we must worship Bright properly,” Pink-Eyes said. “To do that, we must all go into the clan camp and pray. In a half-dozen turns I want all the clan to be gathered and worshiping Bright in the temple area.”
Sharp-Slicer said nothing as the others hastened off to tell the rest of the clan about the miracle and the commands of Pink-Eyes. She did not like losing authority to this pale excuse for a cheela, but with Bright seeming to back him, she had little choice.
Six turns later, the whole clan was gathered in the temple area and listening to Pink-Eyes as he preached. Their bodies filled the temple to overflowing. Pink-Eyes had allowed the clan astrologer to start the worship service, but he soon took over with a lengthy, hypnotic sermon.
Sharp-Slicer listened to the worship service from the fringes of the crowd. She had not neglected her duties as Leader of the Clan, despite the interruption caused by Pink-Eyes. Since Pink-Eyes had insisted that even the perimeter guards attend the worship services, she made sure that she and the other good warriors were on the periphery of the crowd, in case of a barbarian attack. Also, despite their protests, she made the Old Ones stay outside the egg and hatchling pens.
“When the Blessing of Bright comes on you, it will be just as if you were having sex,” she tried to explain
to Hard-Rock, the Old One in charge of the eggs. “You will lose control of your body, and may damage an egg while you are thrashing around.”
“What do you mean!” Hard-Rock protested. “I am too old for sex. All I want to do is tend my eggs.”
However, when Pink-Eyes brought down the Blessing of Bright on the worshiping clan, Hard-Rock felt a sexual surge that was more intense than the best experience of his youth. His body thinned and his eyes stared out from extended stems as his topside was bathed in the warming beam. Then—just at the end of the Blessing—Hard-Rock, his eyes gazing upward at the Eyes in pleasure, saw a faint glimmering beam of deep-colored light pouring down upon him.
“I see it! I see it!!” Hard-Rock shouted. “I believe! I believe!!”
Hard-Rock, instantly converted, left his precious eggs without another glance and moved through the recovering crowd. As he made his way he kept repeating, “I saw! I believe! I want to follow you, bringer of the Word of Bright!”
Pink-Eyes questioned Hard-Rock carefully, and finally was convinced that Hard-Rock had seen a dim version of the dazzling, multicolored display that was so obvious to him. When the next beam came down to the north of them, Pink-Eyes had Hard-Rock look up at the Eyes, but the beam, not being directly on him, was just barely visible to Hard-Rock.
Any remaining thought that he had been imagining things left Pink-Eyes completely, now that his visions of light from the Eyes had been confirmed. He again turned his eyes to the crowd and spoke. “I am Bright’s chosen one,” he announced. “I give you the glowing love of Bright, and I bring to you his Word.”
“Yes!” Hard-Rock broke in, “Listen to the Chosen of God, and obey!”
Pink-Eyes turned his eyes toward Hard-Rock. He
formed a pale tendril and curled it around one of Hard-Rock’s eye-stubs. “You are one of Bright’s chosen ones too, Hard-Rock,” he said. “I want you to come with me on my mission.”
“I obey, God’s-Chosen,” Hard-Rock said; and without hesitation, the hardened veteran reached into a pouch that had not been opened for five dozen greats of turns. He removed his clan totem, raised it high, and let it crash to the crust.
Pink-Eyes called Sharp-Slicer to him and announced, “I will travel to the west to bring the Word of Bright to the rest of the clans. I will need food, and warriors for protection.”
“Yes, O God’s-Chosen,” Sharp-Slicer said, relieved that this perplexing individual would soon leave and allow the life of the clan to resume its normal pattern. “We will obey.”
At the next turn Pink-Eyes, now reverently addressed as God’s-Chosen, moved off to the west with a large party of followers, Hard-Rock the foremost among them, and surrounded by a small contingent of worshipful warriors. Sharp-Slicer had a hard time keeping more of her people from leaving. Fortunately, God’s-Chosen had helped by preaching that Bright wanted them to stay to take care of the eggs and hatchlings, and protect Bright’s Empire from the barbarians.
The procession moved slowly across the crust toward the next clan. A small group led by Hard-Rock was sent ahead with the message that God’s-Chosen was coming to bring down the Blessing of Bright upon them all. Although Hard-Rock was well known in the next clan, it was an incredulous group that gathered around God’s-Chosen as he stopped at the edge of the Clan compound to meet with No-Fear, the Leader of the Clan, and his clan astrologer.
“Why are you bothering our people, clanless one?” spoke No-Fear sharply.
“I only wish to bring them the Word and Blessing of Bright, O Leader of the Clan,” God’s-Chosen said politely. “I know that you have a hard time believing me, but I tell you that I am Bright’s chosen one. Believe in me and you shall receive his Blessing.”
“I don’t like him,” the clan astrologer whispered to No-Fear.
“I am suspicious myself,” No-Fear said. “But Hard-Rock has fought beside me in many battles with the barbarians, and he is not only convinced that this funny pale one tells the truth, but he insists that he can see the Blessing beam himself.”
“I still don’t like it,” the clan astrologer complained again.
“All he asks is to be allowed to use the temple to pray to Bright,” No-Fear said. “That is what the temple is for, so what harm can there be in that?”
“Yet …” complained the clan astrologer, perturbed over possibly losing some of his authority in the clan, “it is the words that he will preach that bother me. He insists that he is the chosen one of Bright. That cannot be. If Bright were to choose a cheela to send his word by, it would be a strong, heroic person, not that insignificant caricature of a cheela.”
“Still,” No-Fear protested, “he may be right, and I would not want to risk a curse from Bright for ignoring the bringer of his Word.” No-Fear turned his eyes toward the pale one.
“We will let you use the clan temple, God’s-Chosen,” said No-Fear, “if you will be sure to bring down the Blessing of Bright upon us.”
Pink-Eyes turned a few of his eyes to the south, where he saw the multicolored beam off in the distance.
“We will rest this turn,” he replied. “But on the next turn I want the entire clan in the temple, and I shall bring the Blessing of Bright upon you all, for I feel that you believe.”
“Well! I don’t believe,” whispered the clan astrologer to No-Fear. “No one can order the God Bright around. If he fails in the coming turn, I want you to order the clanless one turned into meat for speaking such outrageous blasphemy.”
“I had already made that decision,” No-Fear said quietly. “He may be able to fool his own clan, but he will not fool us.”
The bringer of Bright’s Word was not fooling. With the next turn, the following of God’s-Chosen grew. On the succeeding turn God’s-Chosen left the newly converted clan and a puzzled but convinced clan astrologer. The astrologer had asked for and received a special prayer that he could use, for he was going to change his temple worship services to thank Bright for having sent the Bringer of the Word during his lifetime.