Analog SFF, September 2010 Read Online Free

bodies, I didn't exactly feel ready to contact Leviathan. But I felt a strong need to do something.
    Sitting at my desk in my quarters, I dialed the comm address Dr. Merced had given me and waited for it to connect. It rang several times before a synthetic neuter voice came on the line and said, “The party you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after—"
    I hung up before the tone. I hadn't prepared to leave a voicemail message, but I should have realized that having Leviathan's private access code was no guarantee that she would actually answer when I called. So I spent a good ten minutes writing out the message I would leave her on voicemail.
    Satisfied that I had something that expressed my position firmly yet respectfully, I dialed the number again.
    After two rings, a bass voice answered, “Who are you?"
    Startled because I had expected the voicemail again, I stumbled over my words. “I'm . . . this is President Malan, of the Church . . . of the Sol Central Branch of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Dr. Merced gave me this comm address so I could talk to you about one of my . . . a swale member of my branch.” Uncertain because the bass voice didn't strike me as particularly female, I added, “Are you Leviathan?"
    "Religions interest me not.” Her voice synthesis was good enough that I could hear the dismissiveness in her tone.
    "Are you interested in the rights of swales in general?” I asked.
    "No. The lesser concern me not."
    I could feel all my carefully laid-out arguments slipping away from me. How could I have even thought to relate to a being with no consideration for the rights of lesser members of her own species?
    Before I could think through a response, I blurted out, “Do the greater concern you?"
    During several long seconds of silence, I thought I had offended Leviathan to the point that she had hung up on me. Dr. Merced would be annoyed.
    When her voice returned, it almost thundered from the speakers. “Who is greater than I?"
    This had not been part of my planned approach, but at least she was still talking to me. Maybe if I could get her to understand that she would not like being manhandled—swale-handled—by larger swales, I could convince her of the need to respect the rights of smaller swales.
    "From what I understand, swales get larger with age,” I said. “So wouldn't your parents be larger than you?"
    "I have no parents. None is older than I; none is larger; none is greater. I am the source from which all others came."
    Stunned, I was silent for a few seconds before I could ask, “You are the original swale?” Since they didn't seem to die of old age, it just might be true.
    "I am the original life . Before there was life on any planet, I was. After eons alone I grew into a swale, then gave life to others. Where was your God when I was creating them?"
    A verse from the book of Job sprang to my mind: Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding.
    Nothing in my research had prepared me for this. Speculation about the evolution of swales generally assumed that swales were descended from less complex plasma beings in another star, since no simpler forms had been found in the Sun. But if what Leviathan claimed was true, there were no simpler forms—she had evolved as a single being.
    I was out of my depth and but shook my head to clear my thinking. All this was beside the point. “What matters is that Neu—” I caught myself before breaking confidentiality. “One of my swale church members believes in a God who has commanded against sexual activity outside of marriage. It just isn't right for larger swales to force smaller ones to have sex. I appeal to you as the first and greatest of the swales: Command your people against coerced sexual activity."
    Seconds of silence ticked away.
    * * * *
    "Come to me,” she said. “You and your swale church member."
    The call disconnected.
    "'Come