The Alpha and the Omega: An absurd philosophical tale about God, the end of the world, and what's on the other planets (17 page)

“Well Lilly, they don’t think you’re crazy anymore. The whole world recognizes you now! Just remember that I gave you a medal first.”

She laughed.

Then they both looked down. It was the strangest thing. It did not hurt, but dozens of the ants were crawling up their shins, biting them with their little mandibles, and stinging them with their little stinger-tails.

16

T
rue to their word, the people of Heaven came forward to volunteer on Limbo in the millions. Of course, they could not all volunteer at Father Kai’s Church. As it was, God was already concerned that with too many new faces showing up in the village, it would be too easy for the Limbeans to believe that a supernatural power really was at work. No, to accommodate everyone, the volunteers would need to open churches all across Limbo, and they would need to develop a system for “sharing” the same person so that several volunteers could take turns on Limbo while only adding one new face. God offered Lilly the job of spearheading the entire operation, but she turned it down so that she could continue working personally with Father Kai’s congregation, which she and Zack had grown pretty attached to.

In the weeks following Jesus’s speech, they, Father Kai, and Lucky – who now seemed to move with an almost superhuman energy that even Lilly had a hard time matching – had made a lot of progress. Aided by the new volunteers and the villagers themselves, they finished the Great Hall, and a
steady stream of villagers now passed through it at all times to drink from its waters, break bread and cactus with their neighbors, and load up their jugs and canteens with all they could carry. Father Kai held a morning and dinner service there every day, and about seventy villagers now counted themselves as full-fledged Makains. Word had spread to some of the neighboring villages, and scores of travelers were already making the long journey to see the Great Hall and its magical fountain for themselves. This brought more commerce to the village, which in turn brought more converts.

To celebrate their success, the congregation decided to throw a special festival, which was to fall on the 100th birthday of Makaio. Of course, no one knew exactly what day Makaio was born on, or even in what year, but it did not matter. They would, for all time, mark his historic birth on Cresember 18th, the day that Father Kai designated, quite appropriately, as “Makaio Day.”

And so, the congregation made preparations. They put the word out throughout the village and told every traveler that arrived. They wrote special Makaio Day prayers and songs, hung strings of blue-dyed leaves across the ceiling of the Great Hall, and drew chalk dolphins everywhere. Klatu donated some of his best cacti – enough to feed several dozen people – and some of the newer converts contributed even larger amounts of even higher-quality fare, some of which even Zack and Lilly considered to be food, such as the eight barrels of primitive barley beer bequeathed by the wealthy Lasintheus.

When the big day arrived, the village was buzzing. Nearly all of its residents planned to attend, and as many as eighty travelers were on hand in an impromptu tent city that they had established just east of the village. Volunteers
brought them free water from the fountain, and farmers, including Klatu, brought them food… for a price.

But not everyone was in the holiday spirit. That morning, as they were making the final preparations in the Great Hall, Sot confronted Zack, Lilly, and Father Kai with an issue that had suddenly convinced him that they should call off the whole thing.

“I don’t think it’s wise to bring all of this attention to the village,” Sot said. “When King Sork gets word of the fountain, he will send riders to capture it.”

“I’m not so sure Sot,” Lilly said. “Doesn’t Sork already technically control this region? When he finds out about the fountain, I think that what he’ll really be after is taxes. But there’s plenty of wealth now in the village to go around. We can afford to pay him and still prosper.”

“Ay’ you’re a fool!” Sot exclaimed. “You can’t reason with a Limbean king in such ways. They’re not interested in negotiating
mutually-beneficial deals
. Their specialty is dominance, and when Sork finds out about our success, he will attack first, with overwhelming strength.”

“But Sot, we’re opening churches all across Limbo. Soon, Makaism will be so prevalent that Sork will need to convert in order to keep his subjects’ favor.”

“That’s exactly why ‘ell destroy us!”

“No, not necessarily. Back in Hawaii, long before God made it the greatest possible island, there was a powerful king who converted to… er… Makaism, right before a big battle, because he knew that the religion was so popular.”

“Yes Lilly,” Zack said, “but remember that the Romans persecuted the Hawaiian Makains for several hundred years before that happened.”

“Yes, but –”

“
Listen
,” Sot said, raising his voice, “I don’t care what happened in Hawaii. This is Limbo, and I’m telling you that what we’re doing is not prudent.”

“Sot,” Father Kai said, “we must give every person the opportunity to do good, even a Limbean king.”

“That’s fool-talk, and I will not be party to it. If Sacat will not stop your festival, then I cannot either. But I will not participate, and I will not support the Church any further. I hereby renounce Makaism and my membership in your congregation.” He turned swiftly and acutely to emphasize the point; then he marched out of the hall.

“He’ll be back,” Lilly said.

“Yeah, you can’t make everyone happy all the time,” Zack said. “But I do think we need to figure out how we’ll handle Sork when the time comes.”

“Agreed,” Lilly said. “But that’s for tomorrow. Today, we have a festival to put on.”

“That’s right!” Klatu exclaimed, entering the hall. “Aloha, my friends!”

“Aloha!” they replied.

“How are the final preparations going?”

“Excellent,” Lilly said. “We just need to put the finishing touches on the hall and to bring in your delicious cacti, and I think we’ll be all set.”

“Great, I was thinking you might help me. On the way, we can stop at my house, and you can meet Klatan.”

“Who?” Zack asked.

“The newest addition to my family. Last night, Makaio blessed me with another son.”

“Really?!” Lilly squeaked, highly uncharacteristically.

“These are truly joyous tidings!” Father Kai said.

“Indeed,” Klatu replied. “Perhaps one day soon after the festival, when everything has returned to normal, I can bring him here and you can baptize him in the fountain. Then you will have
two
members of my family in the Church!”

“I would be honored,” Father Kai said.

“Shall we go now?” Lilly asked, suddenly in a rush.

“I wouldn’t keep you a minute longer.” Klatu said. “Oh, but there is just one matter that we need to attend to first. As you know, I am a strict adherent to the practice of tithing. And, as I’m sure you might also gather, the more business that I receive, the bigger my ten percent grows.” He smiled expectantly. “I think that you will be most pleased with today’s donation.”

Klatu reached into his pocket and produced a small brown coin purse, which he emptied into Father Kai’s hands. Silver coins – more of them than Zack and Lilly had ever seen in one place on Limbo.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Father Kai said.

“Just keep those pilgrims coming!” Klatu said with a smile.

Klatu, Zack, and Lilly left for Klatu’s stone farmhouse south of the village, while Father Kai finished setting up. When they arrived, Tarta, Klatu’s wife, was waiting for them at the door, with the newborn in her arms. She was about forty years old, like Klatu, and together, the couple represented the oldest two Limbeans that Zack and Lilly had met thus far. Wow, Zack thought, in contemplation of this fact, Klatu must be pretty successful in the farming business.

After Klatu made the introductions, they walked inside and sat down on the large hay-padded stone chairs in the center of the main room, and Zack and Lilly got a closer look at Klatan.

“Oh he’s so cute!” Lilly said, as Zack watched diligently, trying to see if he could get a further read on her predilections for baby-making.

“Thank you,” Tarta said, “would you like to hold him?”

“Of course,” Lilly replied, carefully taking Klatan, despite his squirmy protestations. “Wow, he’s a very active baby!”

“I know,” Tarta said. “Maybe he will be a soldier or a hunter.”

“No, he will be a farmer like me!” Klatu said.

When Klatan finally calmed down, Lilly passed him to Zack, who awkwardly tried to cradle him. Being such a cerebral person, he was never very good with babies or small children; he usually found it difficult to say and do the silly things necessary to entertain them. However, Zack felt a strange familiarity with Klatan, and when he held him, a very odd, prickling sensation arose in the back of his head and neck. For some reason, it felt as if someone had lit a cigar in the room, even though Zack knew that there were no tobacco products of any kind on Limbo. Then Zack felt as if he had eaten way too much food and needed to go collapse on a couch. It felt like the Dallas Cowboys… the Detroit Lions… and political arguments over Whiskey Sours. No, it couldn’t be, could it?

Yes
, God said, in his mind.
Yes it is
. God had never telepathed to Zack on Limbo before, but this was a special occasion. Zack was holding his former uncle, the conman, in his arms.

“Lilly, it’s my Uncle Casey!” he burst out without thinking.

“Huh?” Klatu said.

“I mean, uh…” Zack fumbled for the words, “… it’s what my Uncle Casey said. Um… uh… someday I would like babies. I just needed to get older. Now I like them.”

“Oh, I see,” Tarta said. She and Klatu nodded, and Lilly flashed Zack a knowing smile.

“Well,” Klatu said to Zack, “why don’t you and I leave Klatan with the women while we go gather the cacti?”

Lilly’s smile turned into a frown.

“Sounds good,” Zack said, making a mental note to apologize to Lilly later.

When Zack and Klatu reached the cactus patch, they found that they were not the only ones paying it a visit that day; there were also twelve golligans, and they were not at all as Zack had pictured them. He was expecting to see iguanas or Gila monsters, but these creatures were different. They had green scales, big bloodshot eyes, large yellow teeth, and on the tops of their heads – long, black, human-like hair. Some of them walked upright on their hind legs, while others got along on all fours. One wobbled back and forth awkwardly on two legs, toppling over every few steps, like a human toddler learning to walk. Each golligan was about six inches tall or long, depending on how it carried itself. Some of them were thin, while others had little pot bellies, and one, which seemed to be breathing very heavily, was fat all around.

Six of the golligans were trying to build a pyramid at one of the cacti, in order to reach the higher, fresher part, while another six walked back and forth around them watching.
All of them made little grunting noises as they worked. “Oog oog! Uk uk!” went the little cactus burglars.

“Don’t they see us?” Zack asked.

“No, golligans are very stupid,” Klatu said.

“Really? They seem a little smarter than ordinary animals.”

“In some ways maybe, but just look at them; there’s a full dozen, and not a single one has spotted us. If they were smart, one of them would keep a look-out.”

“Fair enough.”

“Yes, yes. And just watch this! Oh boy Zack, you’re in for a treat. Baaaaseeeet! Baaaaseeeet! Here girl!”

A sleek white cat bounded toward them. She looked just like a housecat from Earth, except that she was about the size of a golden retriever.

“Golligans Baset! Golligans! Huh? Where’s the golligans? Where are they? Come on Baset, find the golligans!”

Baset pounded her front paws on the ground in excitement. She crouched low and darted her head back and forth across the grainy red landscape. Then she spotted them.

“Go get ‘em Baset! Go get ‘em!” Klatu shouted, louder than before.

With that final alarm, just as Baset took off, the golligans finally entered the present. “Ack! Ack! Ack!” they screamed, tumbling over each other in a mad rush for the small dark hole in the ground from which they had come.

But Baset was an arrow, and in seconds, she was upon the last poor golligan in their disorderly little escape-line. It was the one that for some reason, just could not figure out that his nascent, unsophisticated body was not designed for walking upright.

“Uja!” the golligans cried from their hole. “Uuuuujaaa!”

Zack heard the anguish in their voices and knew that they were not as stupid as Klatu thought.

“Ha!” Klatu said. “That’ll teach ‘em.”

“I guess,” Zack said, averting his eyes from the slaughter.

“Oh, don’t think me cruel Zack,” Klatu said, noticing his subtle discomfort. “You must realize,” he continued, wheeling the cart around so that they could get to work, “that this farm was not always successful. When my father ran it, it barely brought in enough money for us to survive. The competition is brutal. You have to defend the crop against insects, golligans, thieves, and competing farmers. You have to pray for good weather, and you have to bribe the Chieftain. My father never had that killer instinct; that’s why we were poor. But I and my sons, who will till this land after I have passed on, will not repeat those mistakes.”