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managed to look smug, “I fail to see your point.”
    Cyrus swallowed quickly and lowered his cup
to retort, as the rest of the table looked back to him as if it
were a miniaturized Kantistyka match, “Allow me to clarify;” he
took a long drink from his pint, let it settle in his mouth, and
then slowly swallowed. An involuntary gasp escaped his lungs as he
set down the cup, “in world where we do not elbow-guard knowledge,
where information and knowledge are disseminated to the masses, the
man who stands on the hill at dawn and commands the sun to rise is
no longer a conjuror. And yet, even when we understand the
elliptical motion of a heliocentric Earth, and the rotation and
precession along the Earth’s axis, the sunrise, however
predictable, is no less wondrous to those with eyes enough to see.”
Cyrus could see solemn nods of approval here and there at the
table. “My point, Dr. Winberg, is this: God is not dead, he is
merely bound and gagged in the morbid cave of our arrogance.
Perhaps, when the swelling of our own heads has subsided enough, we
will hear his muffled pleas and be humble enough to answer
them.”
    There was mild chatter all around the table
as Cyrus finished off his drink, but Winberg was still not
finished, “So you’re a zealot now as well?”
    Cyrus chuckled legitimately at the notion,
“Me? No. Blasphemy is braided too well into my thought patterns for
me to champion any one ideal.” Cyrus paused and held his chest as a
quiet but dense burp arose from his insides. “But I still have a
certain amount of wonder in my heart. That’s why I became a
scientist in the first place.” He tapped his chest lightly to
loosen any other bubbles that may have lurked in his bowels. “And
every time there is a new obstacle to tackle, a new theory to test,
I am comfortable—even pleased—knowing there are forces in this
universe bigger and stronger than me, regardless of the names we
give them.”
    There were more nods and chatter as Cyrus
weakly lifted himself from the table. Dr. Winberg’s retort seemed
less slow and deliberate than his other statements, as if he were
trying to stick them to Cyrus before he left, “See that is where I
must disagree. I believe the human intellect is the greatest thing
in the universe. Man eventually conquered flight. He went from
stubborn geocentricity to the development of space travel. Gravity
remained a mystery for thousands of years and we conquered that as
well. The light-speed barrier has long been a stopping block of the
universe, and yet, as you should well know, we could conquer even
that in our lifetimes—our original lifetimes.”
    There were more nods and murmurs. Expectant
eyes fell on Cyrus as he slid in his chair. Cyrus steadied himself
against the wall and then moved toward the entrance to the room, “I
hate to excuse myself from this challenge of intellects, but I have
dire business to attend to. We will have to conclude this
discussion at a later date.”
    Dr. Villichez wiped his mouth with his napkin
and clasped his hands together, “As our time on this vessel is far
from brief, I’m sure there will be ample opportunity to add to this
discussion.”
    Dr. Tanner looked at everyone else in the room as
individual conversations sprouted like a Hydroponic Table Garden.
He watched Dr. Winberg turn and engage in another rather weighty
discussion with Dr. Gerhard Torvald, preeminent microbiologist who
was much more open to Dr. Winberg’s distaste for religion. Dr.
Winberg seemed to be lapping up the attention like a dehydrated
stray at a lav pool. Tanner could see why those who spread religion
like imperialists spread culture could create distaste among the
less pious. However, he himself never evangelized anyone who did
not specifically request it, and that ministry always came with a
fair warning. Besides, what had been so crudely referred to as
zealotry was so obviously curbed by Dr. Tanner’s own profession.
No, he himself would define it as