Watson, Ian - Novel 08

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Book: Read Watson, Ian - Novel 08 for Free Online
Authors: The Gardens of Delight (v1.1)
superintelligent being here, my
God!” But oaths were all ambiguous in the circumstances.
                 It
amused Sean to note the puzzlement on Austin ’s face at the sudden drop-out of meaning
which his words had suffered, and the frightening new increment.
                 “We
must find out the nature of this alien being,” said Tanya firmly. “First priority.”
                 “Oh,
you’ve come a long way,” conceded Jeremy. “On the other hand, God built a whole
world for us. Your interests are rather secondary. Besides, do you want to take
this news back to Earth? What then, eh? Guided tours? An
invitation to God to send an ambassador? Contact on that level is
ridiculously inappropriate. His terms are the only ones.”
                 “But
don’t you want to get out from under this power?” demanded Tanya.
                 Jeremy
simply gestured around the meadow. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”
                 “But
humans aren’t pets in some superbeing’s zoo!” “Let’s call it a nursery, then,
shall we? Actually, we’ve all come a
long way—from the first protoplasm. And we’ve all got a long way still to go,
you included.”
                Loquela had grown restless. She
flicked her fingers idly. “That’s all very well, this talk of meeting God—just
like that. Fish would like to walk,
and I believe they all will in time. A longish time. For now, surely it’s enough to know that He’s there , and in all of us. Make contact with that reality! Love It! Get rid of those silly rags you’re hiding
in. How can you find anything while
you’re in hiding?”
                 She
pressed her breasts up against Austin ’s chest. She put her arms around his neck
and hooked the ivory softness of her inner thigh around him.
                 Austin leaned away, not so much intending to repel
her as to avoid being pulled over on top of her.
“Doesn’t Knossos wear clothes?” he objected weakly.
                 “What he hides,” said Jeremy, “is hidden knowledge. He already knows—what’s hidden from us. Now get one thing
clear, Captain: you don’t get any bad marks here for enjoying yourself. This
isn’t any puritan God. Though it isn’t lotus land, either—we’re all busy
learning something. Loquela’s quite right. Join in! We should have a welcoming
feast. Or call it an orgy, if you like. We’re all, hmm, friends here.” Loquela,
however, had already uncoiled herself from reluctant Austin . She beckoned to the three riders who had
halted beside the ship and dismounted, setting the enormous blotched carp down
carefully on its side so that it could admire, or wonder at it. The three young
men walked over, appreciating the newcomers smilingly. They said nothing,
though, but only waited like three nude squires.
                 Their
hair was a uniform brown thatch, and their bodies were tanned almost
golden—polished gold coins to Loquela’s ivory currency. They had slim hips, and muscles that looked more decorative than
functional—though they could certainly heave a carp that must have weighed a
good deal, between them. Two of them were uncircumcised, Sean noted, but the
third wasn’t, so the God mustn’t be fussy about that.
                 “Hullo,”
he said, “I’m Sean.”
                 One
of the young men inclined his head. “I’m Dimple. That’s Dapple. He’s Dawdle.”
                 “Those
are your names?”
                 “Oh
no,” laughed the young man. “Those are our mounts’ names. We don’t have any
names yet, because we don’t know who we are yet—so how can we have names till
we do?”
                 “But
you must have had names once.”
                 “Ah,
but those were the wrong names. So we
forgot all about them. Well?” invited Dimple, looking at Muthoni slyly. He
rubbed

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