The Pandora Sequence: The Jesus Incident, the Lazarus Effect, the Ascension Factor Read Online Free Page B

resolute.
    “As long as you believe yourself helpless, you remain helpless even though resolute,” Ship said.
    “So You read my mind, too.”
    “Read? That is hardly the word.”
    Ship’s voice came from the darkness all around him. It conveyed a sense of remote concerns which Flattery could not fathom. Every time Ship spoke he felt himself reduced to a mote. He combed his way through a furry sense of subjugation, but every thought amplified this feeling of being caged and inadequate.
    What could a mere human do against a power such as Ship?
    There were questions in his mind, though, and he knew that Ship sometimes answered questions.
    “How long have I been in hyb?”
    “That length of time would be meaningless to you.”
    “Try me.”
    “I am trying you.”
    “Tell me how long I’ve been in hyb.”
    The words were barely out of his mouth before he felt panic at what he had done. You did not address God that way . . . or Satan.
    “Why not, Raj?”
    Ship’s voice had taken on an air of camaraderie, but so precise was the modulation his flesh tingled with it.
    “Because . . . because . . .”
    “Because of what I could do to you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Ahhhhh, Raj, when will you awaken?”
    “I am awake.”
    “No matter. You have been in hybernation for a very long time as you reckon time.”
    “How long?” He felt that the answer was deeply important; he had to know.
    “You must understand about replays, Raj. Earth has gone through its history for Me, replayed itself at My Command.”
    “Replayed . . . the same way every time?”
    “Most of the times.”
    Flattery felt the inescapable truth of it and a cry was torn from him: “Why?”
    “You would not understand.”
    “All of that pain and . . .”
    “And the joy, Raj. Never forget the joy.”
    “But . . . replay?”
    “The way you might replay a musical recording, Raj, or a holorecord of a classical drama. The way Moonbase replayed its Project Consciousness, getting a bit more out of it each time.”
    “Why have You brought me out of hyb?”
    “You are like a favorite instrument, Raj.”
    “But Bickel . . .”
    “Ohh, Bickel! Yes, he gave Me his genius. He was the black box out of which you achieved Me, but friendship requires more, Raj. You are My best friend.”
    “I would’ve destroyed You, Ship.”
    “How little you understand friendship.”
    “So I’m . . . an instrument. Are You replaying me?”
    “No Raj. No.” Such sadness in that terrible voice. “Instruments play.”
    “Why should I permit You to play me?”
    “Good! Very good, Raj!”
    “Is that supposed to be an answer?”
    “That was approval. You are, indeed, My best friend, My favorite instrument.”
    “I’ll probably never understand that.”
    “It’s partly because you enjoy the play.”
    Flattery could not suppress it; a chuckle escaped him.
    “Laughter suits you, Raj.”
    Laughter? He remembered little laughter except the bitter amusement of self-accusation. But now he remembered going into hyb—not once, but more times than he cared to count. There had been other awakenings . . . other games and . . . yes, other failures. He sensed, though, that Ship was amused and he knew he was supposed to respond.
    “What are we playing this time?”
    “My demand remains unfulfilled, Raj. Humans somehow cannot decide how to WorShip. That’s why there are no more humans now.”
    He felt frigid cold all through his body.
    “No more . . . What’ve You done?”
    “Earth has vanished into the cosmic whirl, Raj. All the Earths are gone. Long time, remember? Now, there are only Shipmen . . . and you.”
    “Me, human?”
    “You are original material.”
    “A clone, a doppelganger, original material?”
    “Very much so.”
    “What are Shipmen?”
    “They are survivors from the most recent replays—slightly different replays from the Earth which you recall.”
    “Not human?”
    “You could breed with them.”
    “How are they different?”
    “They have similar