The Bad Joke
Beyond the Edge of Belief
Stop me if you heard this one. A priest a rabbi, an imam, and an atheist are dropped off on a planet in the outer spiral of a galaxy at the furthest reaches of the universe. The closest to the edge anyone can be. A sea of red grass under a turmeric sky in an isolated valley, the center of which is dominated by an ivory tower like an upended cathedral, stretching towards the heavens like a white thorn.
Our reason for being there was anyone’s guess but why we were there was because The Emperor told us he wanted to show us something and being the whimsical creature that he was, he loaded us into one of the ridiculously ornate ships that sail the void and here we have arrived.
As a delegate of Earth and a man of science it is safe to assume that I was living out the fantasy of every one of my peers though I could not fathom the presence of my comrades on this adventure to see alien worlds and civilizations, least of all to some temple on the edge of existence.
There was no mistaking this structure for anything else. Perhaps it was the limited scope of my human experience but everything about this massive structure screamed that it was dedicated to the worship of some deity or pantheon. The way the architecture resembled the gothic cathedrals of Earth was uncanny. It had its own artistic flair; jagged edges were instead smooth and bulbous giving the white stone a foam appearance like a cartoon depiction of a childish land of candy temple.
One thing I will point out now, is that in the short time since The Empire led by its enigmatic tyrant came to Earth it made us, Earthlings that is, reassess what it means to be human. It began when the realization came that The Emperor himself was a Homo Sapien, just not one born on Earth. How this came about is anyone’s guess as any conversation with the man steered away from the subject. Not because he was particularly secretive but because there was always a more pressing matter.
But this isn’t about him but rather his continued deference to his people as human regardless of their species. It would be prudent to point out that the common language amongst all Imperials is its own version of Latin. The changes came as these things do from younger generations bastardizing it, The Emperor lamented this fact as something beyond even his capabilities or as he commonly said, “Why we can’t have nice things.”
Our little group was a walking joke rather than a running gag so entranced we were by the beauty of the goliath temple that stretched ever upwards. Beyond the slight alterations to the Gothic motif, I noticed a lack of grotesques or gargoyles, a fact I found odd at the time but ignored in lieu of everything else.
We stood before the circular entranceway and the door parted down the middle as it opened noiselessly, sliding upon hidden rails. A yellow glow greeted us as we entered the nave. The entire room was bathed in light emanating from a rose window at the far end of the nave casting long shadows from the columns and pews. The light through the rose window filtered the light in a particular manner that caused fluctuations giving the whole space the appearance of being made of fire.
Passing through the crossing towards the apse we cast our sights on a statuesque figure on a strange altar that blocked the rest of the light and gave it the same pale appearance of the stone as the exterior. A robed monk made in the likeness of the Laurenti, a reptilian species a part of the empire but very reclusive. As I came to understand it there was a deeply rooted aversion to other species that dominated their culture.
As surprises go it was a small one when the robed statue turned its head towards us and began speaking, a highly unusual thing for a statue to do, though not so much for a living creature. His robes were simple yet elegant and matched the same pale pallor of his scales. Even my limited experience with his species allowed me to identify him as male by his stature and that the paleness was not the sign of healthy continence.
“Brethren of the Abrahamic denominations, you must be from Earth,” The creature had rasping tenor to his voice that was not unpleasant, albeit slightly comical given his reptile heritage. I managed to stifle my amusement lest I offend him with my stereotypical perception.
He coughed once to clear his throat, and the rasp disappeared, “I apologize, it has been a very long time since I have spoken to another person. Amodiu sometimes sends pilgrims my way, yet I have yet to have the pleasure of the Children of Abraham, be welcome all to the House of God I have built. Peace be upon you and your messiahs.”
An awkwardness fell upon me in knowing I did not belong here. Many of the preconceptions I have had up to this point had been dispelled by my experiences from being shuttled from one part of The Empire to another and yet outside of small cult superstitions I had never seen any naked worship of a supreme deity, let alone one so prolific on Earth.
“I see we have an outsider,” the man said eyeing me over with red tinted slit eyes.
I felt like a child again standing at a tribunal before my parents and could do the only thing that came naturally in that situation, “My apologies, I didn’t mean tp...” I trailed off as it occurred to me that I had nothing to apologize for.
“Do not fret young one. All are welcome here, even those who do not share the faith,” his eyes closed and his tilted upwards slightly with his hands clasped together. He looked very the part of a spiritual being receiving communion with his creator. “Amodiu is not a man that is refused,” he continued.
“By Amodiu, do you mean The Emperor?” I asked with a tremble in my voice.
“I mean Amodiu, though it is one of many titles he bears, and he holds them all with equal indifference, including Emperor.”
My head swam suddenly with all the questions I wanted to ask this man. Up until that point I had gotten small, vague glimpses into secrets of The Empire and The Emperor and what his ultimate goal was, particularly for Earth. My gaze wandered to the burning floor pondering what question to ask first.
“Take your time child, you have all the time in the universe, and I am going nowhere. Unless I get called to stand beside The Lord, and I don’t see that happening any time soon,” a smile spread across his face. The grandfatherly kind of smile you see amongst some clergy members. It irked me further and though I could think of a thousand psychological reasons why all related to my childhood it ultimately came back to the fact that I did not belong, to the group or in that place.
While I self-reflected in a pool of awkward misery my religious fellows who had accompanied me engaged in conversation with the monk. He was more than happy to answer their questions and discuss their varying perspectives. At one point the priest became somewhat agitated, at which point the man calmly directed him towards a door in the bay.
“Beyond the door is the library, there you will find my copy of the Good Book, please bring it here since you have a point you want to prove. Do be careful though it is a first edition from the Council of Nicaea.”
“Which one?” the priest asked.
“The first one of course,” the monk replied, “I’m sorry I don’t have a copy of the original manuscript of all the stories. But Amodiu has the originals if you care to ask him.”
“He has them?”
“He was there directing the scribes to write them as per the decision of the bishops. He also has the original books of the Torah and as it was explained to me, he was also personally acquainted with Mohammad, Peace be upon Him.”
“How intrusive has The Emperor been on our world?”
I was shocked by the incredible rudeness of the sudden outburst. As I scanned the group wondering who it came from I realized all eyes were glued to me, and the culprit was made apparent. I reflexively brought a hand to my jaw and became aware my mouth had gone somewhat slack.
The monk gestured to the others, “Brethren, please, wait for me in the library. Feel free to read anything that interests you. I trust you will conduct yourselves meritoriously. I will join you shortly.”
The door to the library slid closed and the dampened thud felt thunderous in the room. My embarrassment didn’t follow them, it seemed quite content to perch upon my shoulders and pin me to the ground. The monk got up from his perch and walked over to me. The tapping of his scaly feet on the stone floor in the oppressive silence did not distract me from noticing that the light refused to touch this man. The colorless palette remained in the burning yellow that surrounded us. Standing in front of me the man was half a foot shorter and looked up into my eyes with his own.
“You remind me of my people. Carnal creatures, obsessed with technology and knowledge. Unable to contemplate the unseen they can only define their perspective by what can be seen or measured. To a degree, I was like you, though my motivations were more self-aggrandizing.” The monk motioned his head to follow him, and he began to trot away.
“What changed for you?” I asked, falling in step beside him.
“The same thing that happened to you, Amodio came to me at the height of my egotistical life and said he wanted to show me something. Elated to get ahead of my fellows I of course followed enthusiastically.”
He paused before a featureless humanoid statue in an auxiliary, “Beyond the edge of our universe is something of barrier known only to a couple of beings, it has no name, but I call it The Edge. Beyond it lies... everything. Only creatures with an overinflated sense of self or id, as it were, such as The Emperor and, as you have already surmised, me, can pass beyond the edge. To not have a solid sense of self is to dissipate into nothing. There, in an ocean of any and every possibility The Emperor brought me before God. No allegory or metaphor, the authentic creator of all things.”
My eyes turned from the statue to the man. Despite my personal inclinations not to, I found myself inclined to believing this man. Maybe it was the place we were in that influenced me or his obvious personal relationship with The Emperor.
“What happened,” I asked suddenly feeling the weight of what I was being told.
It was his turn to stare at me. “Absolutely nothing,” he said.
He continued, “Our little universe is a cleared space within the realm of endless possibility and existence. Within that realm of pure existence is a manifestation of will and having that will grants it supreme power. In audience to that power, I understood so many things beyond my sheer insignificance, but ultimately, the answer to your question. Nothing changed, birds still chirp, bad people continue to do bad things, and cats continue to rule over all of us.”
I understood what he was getting at. God’s existence didn’t change anything within our realm of perception. Gravity still affected us as much as the whims of our fellow man. The one question popped into my mind as surely it would have to any man of my vocative background.
“Why?” I gave it voice.
“Understand child, there was a time when my scales stood out amongst my kind as unique, red as a vibrant ruby. Knowledge has a price and in the presence of God I was granted a glimpse of the Ultimate Goal, and it shook me to the very core of my existence. Not just for what it was but also what it implied.”
I took a deep breath. I tiny voice inside me that I had made a habit of ignoring told me to turn away at this point. Though it would have been to my personal benefit to listen I chose to ignore it once more, “Tell me.”
“You have a turn of phrase on Earth, one usually uttered from the mouths of the intellectually bankrupt. A pseudo intellectual query: Can God create a stone so heavy, that he himself cannot pick it up?”
I uttered a noise between a scoff and a laugh, “Don’t tell me that’s it?”
“Oh no,” he said, completely ignoring my rude response, “God’s Plan is that simple, yet the goal is far more grandiose.”
The man’s words thereafter spilled forth like rain. Each individual drop was inconsequential, but as a whole, it became more and more damaging as they fell upon me without stopping. Each drop of knowledge brought enlightenment to the machinations of the universe with each gear fitting into place and everything nonsensible being made transparent in purpose, so too did my grip on sanity start to wash away.
I fell to my knees before the featureless statue and the monk placed his hand on my shoulder though it did little to steady my body.
“D-does he know?’ I managed to stammer.
The monk tilted his head slightly as if weighing his next words against my sanity. He finally turned to the statue and spoke, “I honestly do not know, but I get the distinct impression that he does not. I have lived here in this place, alone and afraid for countless millennia in fear of that very notion.”
“What if we...”
“Do you want to run the risk of destroying God’s work? Are you fully aware of what that means for all of us?”
“Is it really that fragile?”
“Yes,” the monk said definitively.
“But that’s-.”
“Complete barking madness. As a man of science, I’m sure you can understand.”