The Chosen Seed (42 page)

He
grew fatter
.

His
first son grew up
.

They were light and life and courage, the young. The first son was everything the Father was not: he was filled with easy charm, if a little arrogant and spoiled at times, but he was good and he drew others to him, the young men of the cohorts, the quiet Architect, and the rest. They bathed in his confidence and the cities smiled as they watched them soar beneath the suns as only the people of the cohorts could. They were brave and brilliant. And the first son and the young saw the Father, the Lord God, for what
he
was and they agreed they would no longer tolerate the cruelty of
His
whims. They would go to distant places and talk where they could not be heard
.

Trouble brewed
.

With the peoples subdued, Paradise was still filled with music and everything glittered and Glowed, and as long as
He
was happy, all was well. But it became so hard to tell when
He
was happy, and it could change so very swiftly
. His
ministers and the Inner Cohort were quietly relieved when
He
started a new project, locking
himself
away for days at a time with
His
scientists. Platters of food and wine disappeared inside at regular intervals, but the Lord God rarely emerged. It was a pleasant time in Paradise and it reminded them that there could be something other than luxurious fear as a way of life. More of the cohort, the élite residents of Paradise, the ruling class, the flyers, gathered to the first son and those who stood with him. They wanted their honour back; they did not want to be the representatives of a Despot
.

When the Lord God eventually emerged, at first
He
didn’t notice the trouble
. He
barely noticed that the young had grown and were no longer children, but men. The Architect had a child of his own, a strange little thing with a peculiar damp Glow
. He
saw these things but they didn’t register
; He
was too filled with his own achievement
.

He
had created new life
, He
declared. It was
His
first attempt and the results were crude, but they would be
His
slaves: they could work the mines in the lands before Chaos. With a flourish
He
presented them to the court: two feeble bodies that did not shine or Glow. They looked shy and awkward under the scrutiny of the cohort
.

‘I
tried to make them in
my
own image
,’ He
said, stuffing grapes into
his
mouth
. He
laughed a lot at that irony, for these pathetic beings had no wings and were so very small, and the cohorts politely joined in, but none matched
His
guffaws. ‘Aren’t they so innocent?
’ He
said. ‘Look at their dull eyes
.’ He
nodded to himself. ‘Stupid. Just what
I
need them to be
.’

He
let them live in the palace garden, where
He
could watch them from the windows of the throne room, but
He
soon grew bored. Their bodily functions were crude, and they weren’t as pliable as
he’
d expected. As soon as they could speak, all they had were questions. And they were eating all
His
fruit
.

After a while
, He
no longer looked at them
. He
couldn’t destroy them – not yet, at least – because
He
would not show
himself
fallible. The creation had been a success, but
He
would attempt a more successful one
. He
set the scientists the task of creating a better HuMan, as
He
had named his experiment. In the meantime
, He
declared all female cohort second-class citizens. It amused
him.

Trouble rumbled
.

It could no longer be ignored
.

Father and son went to war, and it was terrible: the skies above all the cities of Heaven burned as the two sides fought. The Lord God even flew
himself,
and although
He
had grown fat
, He
was still powerful – the most powerful – and although casualties fell on both sides
, He
would not be dominated
.

The first son could see that they were losing, and he knew the penance for his sins would fall on his friends, for the Father loved
his
first son, and that was
His
weakness
. He
thought the first son had acted in impatience and ambition and
He
could understand those traits more than any desire for kindness and justice, for the Lord God considered
Himself
kind and just
.

The first son and his friends fought harder as those around them fell, but they were too young, and there were too few of them. The Lord God and
His
armies were crushing the rebellion
.

As defeat stared them in the face they made a plan: they would not stay here to be humiliated and paraded as part of
his
victory; instead, they would travel. They would go far from here and start again, build their own civilisation – the Architect would build it. Many wanted to come with them, and while the first son returned to Paradise to speak with his father they waited, out at the edge of Heaven, with instructions to leave without him should he not return. The Lord God was angry
; He
told the son to go and never return
; He
didn’t care about him. The first son was a disgrace and
He
had a second son
. His
roars made the palace shake
.

As he left, quickly and quietly through a side-door, the first son saw the HuMans, the failures, in the gardens sitting beneath the apple tree they loved. He took pity on them and called them and their children, for it appeared the HuMans bred quickly. He would take them with him. They could be failures in his father’s eyes together
.

And so they travelled, out to the furthest reaches of the suns of Heaven. They made a path of their own, the cohorts and the women and the HuMans, through the endless fields of Chaos, and found their way to the unchartered Hell beyond. They would find their new home here, somewhere beyond the cold darkness, the first son was sure of it. His enthusiasm kept their tired spirits raised on the long journey
.

Finally, they found somewhere. The Architect studied it thoroughly and started to build
.

They called it Earth, after the first son’s dead mother
.

For a long time they stayed in their natural shape, but the HuMans bred fast, and soon they began to question those who were different, so the cohort became small. It was wisest
.

After a while, the HuMans, with their short life spans, couldn’t remember that anything had ever been different
.

But somehow, perhaps
he
had programmed it into them, they started looking for a Lord God – a deity. A creator. They had questions
.

The cohorts contemplated long and hard on the appropriate course of action. Some wanted to tell them the truth about the creation, about the terrible Lord God, and how they had all come to be here. But the Lord God hadn’t been entirely wrong about the humans, as they now called themselves; for all that they were capable of great cruelty and anger, they had a belief in goodness and they needed to look up to something greater than themselves, a father figure who would judge them. The truth would destroy that. They would run to ruin
.

Eventually the first son – the First among them – came up with a plan: he would take their own story thus far, but change it slightly to suit
. He
would be the Messiah they craved, the son of the benevolent God, and he would say he had been sent among them to die for their sins. He would pick some from those among them who now had the Glow – for the cohorts had spread their seed among humankind – to be his disciples, and they would use their long lives to spread the word and it would grow
.

And thus it was that Lucifer, once the first son, the First among them, became Jesus of Nazareth and brought the word of God to the lost
.

He was very good at it
.

Afterwards, when it was done and the Good Book was written, there was celebration and merriment. The Architect, always the more serious of the three who had led the way, thought perhaps the rising again on the third day was a little elaborate, but he smiled as he watched the seed of the religion grow. Around the globe they repeated the stories, variations on a theme, until all the people of the Earth had a Lord God they could believe in
.

As time passed and the cohorts sank into the background, pulling the strings of the world quietly from within their Network, the First and Mr Bright and Mr Solomon and many others were shocked at how like their original Lord God
His
creations could be. How they could be so cruel to each other, and all in the name of the kindly God the First had fabricated for them. Perhaps
He
had made them more than a little in
his
own image after all
.

They bred and the world filled
.

Mr Bright settled in his first city, Pandemonium, Londinium, London. He liked the cool air, so different from the heat and sand they’d left behind
.

Time passed
.

‘All the proof is here!’ Dr Cornell was pacing the room, unable to contain his excitement. ‘
Everything
. All I’ve researched, all I’ve believed in while the rest of the world called me mad – it’s there on that computer!’ He laughed a little maniacally. ‘I’ll be reinstated. They’ll probably make me a dean. Don’t you see?’ He looked at Cass. ‘It’s all
there
. The entire history of a conspiracy. We have to show the world. There is no choice! Just do it! Why are you hesitating?’

Cass said nothing. His eyes were still focused on the screen. Dr Cornell was right; everything was there. It might take people years to go through it all, and it would certainly shock, but it could not be denied as truth. The command on the screen flashed at him. ‘Send?’

He lit a cigarette and stared at it. Why was he hesitating? Sending the information out over the Internet had been his immediate suggestion; Dijan Maric would be able to turn it into a virus and it would be in every inbox in the world within days: the ultimate virus. The truth.

From the kitchen came the sound of ice tinkling in a glass. Brian Freeman had left them to it. Unlike Dr Cornell, he wasn’t interested in wading in with his opinion.

‘This is your choice, Cassius,’ Mr Bright said. He hadn’t
moved from the armchair during the hours Cass, Freeman and Dr Cornell had been sifting through the overwhelming mass of information. One leg was crossed casually over the other and he had recovered and his composure. His eyes twinkled merrily. ‘You can send that out to the world, open their eyes – that’s up to you. But you know this human race as well as I do: they are insatiably curious. In fact, you sum up their curiosity, the way you wouldn’t stop coming after me, the way you had to
know
.’ He smiled. ‘What do you think they will do with all this knowledge?”

Cass looked over at him. ‘What do
you
think they will do?’ He was surprised to find that he wanted Mr Bright’s opinion.

‘I think at first the focus will be on the finances. No one will truly believe in men who have lived for ever, and so they will presume each of us is a code name for some corrupt society or other. The careful balance we have built will crumble. The Bank will fall, definitely. Governments across the world will fight for the money in the X accounts. More than likely, we will have an Armageddon of our own making. If not, then finally someone, somewhere, will look for the cohorts. They will want to bring them down. They will see all this as some kind of deceit, which of course it has been. What will start as curiosity will end in a witch-hunt, and perhaps we will be forced to fight.’ Mr Bright got to his feet and went to the window and looked out. He couldn’t see the houses beyond Brian Freeman’s gates, but he knew they were there.

‘They will not forgive us for being
different
. Ultimately we will probably have to
become
, to assert our authority through physical might – but this time the weaponry you have invented means we will probably die. As will a great many of you.’

Brian Freeman came in with four glasses of whisky on a tray. Mr Bright smiled his thanks as he took one.

‘And all of that, Cassius Jones, I could live with, if you’ll excuse the pun. Perhaps we have been too controlling. Perhaps we should never have changed the story of our journey, but we did. If we had to fight and die because of it, then
c’est la vie
. Things were always thus. But that wouldn’t be the end of it, would it?’

‘What do you mean?’ Cass asked.

‘Don’t listen to him!’ Dr Cornell snapped, brushing Freeman’s offered drink aside and sending the glass clattering to the carpet.

‘Take it easy!’ Freeman put the tray down and grabbed the old man, forcing him down into a seat. ‘Take it fucking easy, mate.’

‘People have a
right
to know the truth,’ Dr Cornell shouted. ‘I have a
right
to be vindicated!’

‘The truth,’ Mr Bright said calmly, ‘is often only a matter of perception.’

‘No, the truth is right there in that computer,’ Dr Cornell snarled.

‘And for a long while, people will still think that is madness. It’ll only be the money that interests them. Maybe for as long as your lifetime.’