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She guarded them with anxious care,
Lest they should come to harm.
They knew her as their Friend and kin,
Around her they would feast and play --
And yet cruel Murderers came by night,
And slew her where she lay.
Too many violent hands and hearts!
Dian, too sadly few like you --
For when a Species dies from Earth,
We die a little too.
Among the green and misty hills,
Where once the shy Gorillas gathered,
Your kindly Spirit wanders still,
In watchfulness, forever.
From The God's Gardeners Oral Hymnbook
55
REN
YEAR TWENTY-FIVE
You create your own world by your inner attitude, the Gardeners used to say. And I didn't want to create the world out there: the world of the dead and dying. So I sang some old Gardener hymns, especially the happy ones. Or I danced. Or I played the songs on my Sea/H/Ear Candy, though I couldn't help thinking that now there'd be no more new music.
Say the Names, Adam One would tell us. And we'd chant these lists of Creatures: Diplodocus, Pterosaurus, Octopus, and Brontosaurus; Trilobite, Nautilus, Ichthyosaurus, Platypus. Mastodon, Dodo, Great Auk, Komodo. I could see all the names, as clear as pages. Adam One said that saying the names was a way of keeping those animals alive. So I said them.
I said other names too. Adam One, Nuala, Zeb. Shackie, Croze, and Oates. And Glenn -- I just couldn't picture anyone so smart being dead.
And Jimmy, despite what he'd done.
And Amanda.
I said those names over and over, in order to keep them alive.
Then I thought about what Mordis had whispered, at the end. Your name, he'd said. It must have been important.
I counted the food I had left. Four weeks' worth, three weeks, two. I marked off the time with my eyebrow pencil. If I ate less, I could make it last longer. But if Amanda didn't come soon, I'd be dead. I couldn't really imagine it.
Glenn used to say the reason you can't really imagine yourself being dead was that as soon as you say, "I'll be dead," you've said the word I, and so you're still alive inside the sentence. And that's how people got the idea of the immortality of the soul -- it was a consequence of grammar. And so was God, because as soon as there's a past tense, there has to be a past before the past, and you keep going back in time until you get to I don't know, and that's what God is. It's what you don't know -- the dark, the hidden, the underside of the visible, and all because we have grammar, and grammar would be impossible without the FoxP2 gene; so God is a brain mutation, and that gene is the same one birds need for singing. So music is built in, Glenn said: it's knitted into us. It would be very hard to amputate it because it's an essential part of us, like water.
I said, in that case is God knitted in as well? And he said maybe so, but it hadn't done us any good.
His explanation of God was a lot different from the Gardeners' explanation. He said "God is a Spirit" was meaningless because you couldn't measure a Spirit. Also he'd say Use your meat computer when he meant Use your mind. I found that idea repulsive: I hated the idea of my head being full of meat.
I kept thinking I could hear people walking around in the building, but when I scanned the rooms I couldn't see anyone moving. At least the solar was still working.
