The Log from the Airship Reverent is a story about obsolescence, rivalry, faith and class warfare. There are monsters, deserts, tree spires, mysteries, criminals, “birds,” swordfighters, reunited lovers, gay lovers, cliffs, wingsuits, and trans people. Reverent is about learning that an evil system relies on distraction, unthinking loyalty, and obedience. And sometimes people run out of obedience to give. I think you’re gonna love it.
As with all the stories here, consider this a work in progress. Post your thoughts in the comment section below.
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Excerpts from First Book of Providence
1:1 From the great cauldron of creation came the heavens and all the stars. And the stars alone in brilliance and glory shone brightly in the void, and the Lights of Creation shone thence…
1:9 And Deizla being merciful and kind knew their innocence and drew into his being all the defiant Lights of Creation and shewed them again His glorious plan, and at last the Lights submitted to His will…
1:12 And Deizla, now complete and being of no equal, shall henceforth be known as the one true God, the ruler of the Realm of Light and all of creation, master of all…
1:13 And God shone His light from the heavens in all His brilliant splendor and created the world.
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There is no darkness like that of the Attritional.
It is a starless place, acrid and somber though teetering on the brink of a maddening expectation, as if the thousands of Penitent interred here can leap up at any moment in revolt. It is deep, cold as death and not a place of honor.
There is only a chilly atramentous dark. In my early days as a Chaplain, I was told that the Penitent were entombed this way as instructed in the Book of Providence, but I began slowly to suspect that the real reason was that the Sacrament was readily tainted by exposure to light which seemed to drastically arrest the effect after consumption. For this reason, I kept the violet gloam of my lamp dialed down to a meager pinlight, a single synthetic star humming in an abyssal cavern of black.
There is no darkness like that of the Attritional.
Endless rows of daises stretched long past the outer edges of the known. Upon each dais was mounted a prodigious figure in repose, face outstretched and upturned with tubes plunged into the feeding ports. The tubes rose far above and out of sight, and no human was permitted to know the provenance of the holy meal, and no human ever questioned it. Bloated hairless figures reclined nude and vascular, whose lower halves were mostly sealed within the daises for cleaning and extraction. None were responsive, though fresh Penitents had been known to make a pleading sort of eye contact on occasion.
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The order was unusually large, and came through the slot at such a late hour that I read it twice to be sure it was not a mistake. A rush supply of Sacrament, the order stated, to be delivered to the Research Office hangar at the top of Southtree. The climb would be torture, I mused while I waded through the darkness down in the Attritional. To be delivered by midnight, the order had read. I could visit the Widow on the way up.
At last I approached a flagged Dais, which bore the crimes and date of Judgment along with a toggle which indicated such a weight ripe for extraction. I inserted my extractor into the holy port, and drew a measure of Sacrament equal to 6 or 7 Hail Kraets. The Penitent showed no reaction, excepting the pulse of a thick fluid rippling blue and purple just below the skin rushing to fill the void left by my extraction. I reset the toggle and extracted five more Penitent to charge completely my chalice and delivery urn, after which I left without speaking and heard only silence in return, and the thrum of some faraway meal pump. Darkness fell over the Attritional in the wake of my absence. Darkness and torpor for all.
There is no darkness like that of the Attritional.
It is a starless place.
Comments
3 responses
Slurrrrrp
Who *wouldn’t*?
I SLURP YOUR SACRAMENT ELLIE!