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C24 A Blasphemous Idea

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Scene from EC's novel "The Girl with No Name" - www.literotica.com/s/the-girl-…

The couple spent many hours chatting in bed. Ilmátarkt had formal education and had done some reading before fleeing Nagorónkti-Serífkti, although he had not attended a university. His knowledge of biology exceeded hers, but his knowledge of botany was more limited and he knew nothing about geology. He realized that he had the opportunity to fill in some of the gaps simply by talking to his wife about her university studies during her year in Sebérnekt Ris. They talked extensively about her readings about religion and philosophy and the competing sects of Christianity. Danka still considered herself a Follower of the Ancients more than anything else, but admitted the events over the past year had badly undermined her beliefs.

“I don’t know anymore. Maybe we really do live in the Realm of the Destroyer. Maybe the Creator and the Ancients really have departed our world, and the Destroyer took over.”

Ilmátarkt’s response totally shocked her.

“I don’t think we live in the Realm of the Destroyer, nor anyone else’s Realm. I’ve never seen the Ancients, or the Creator, or the Destroyer. I’ve not seen Jesus or Mohammed. If I’ve not seen it, as far as I’m concerned it doesn’t exist.”

Danka sat up.

“You… don’t think the Ancients exist?”

“I suppose they existed as real people at some point. Then they died and someone else came along and made up stories about them. The same with Abraham, Jesus, and Mohammed. I’m sure they were real men at some point, but they died just like anyone else. Then, people who needed to use their names to justify themselves, or their place in the world, or assume control over others, made up stories and convinced themselves their heroes were still alive.”

“But you don’t believe there was anything special about them…”

“Not really. The must have had strong personalities and loyal followers, but you could say the same about the Grand Duke, or even about Commander Sáupeckt. Who knows? Maybe when they die, enough people will make up stories about them and they’ll be the next divine beings. There’s really no reason why that couldn’t happen.”

The conversation continued for a while, before Danka's husband revealed another blasphemous idea; that he did not believe the Realm of the Creator, or "Heaven", as the True Believers called it, existed.

“But… what do you think happens when our souls separate from our bodies?”

 “I don’t think there’s anything to separate. We die and our bodies rot, just like an animal’s body rots. We’re no different from animals. They are born, they live, and they die. We are born, we live, and we die. There’s no difference in the pattern of life and there is no soul. You cut open an animal or a human, and the insides are exactly the same. You should know that better than anyone else. You practiced operating on pigs so you could operate on men. The organs and bones are the same. The life-cycle is the same. So, what evidence is there that we are different from animals at all? To me, the evidence points in the other direction. We’re just animals, but don’t want to admit it. So… we come up with stories about men who don’t die, who can fly through the air and control the weather and control worlds we’ve never seen. And in the end, we think these friends of our imagination can help us. But what difference does it make, what we choose to believe? Has a god or a prophet or an Ancient ever added a single minute to anyone’s life? I’m convinced it’s all wishful thinking.”

“It’s not wishful thinking, Ilmátarkt. I wish it was.”

“So, you’ve seen an Ancient? In real life? Not just in your imagination?”

“Not an Ancient, but I’ve seen the Destroyer. The Destroyer… visits me every so often… to taunt me, or to tell me what’s about to happen. And it’s not something I want. It's always something bad.”

“And how do you know that’s not just your fantasy or a bad dream? How would you know that? What makes you so important the Destroyer would only want to talk to you?”

“It’s not fantasy. It isn’t. It’s real… more real to me than anything in the Realm of the Living.”

“Listen. You’ve endured a lot of bad experiences, some of which you’ve shared with me and some of which you’ve chosen to keep secret. These are unpleasant times and we’ve all endured bad events in our lives. The memories affect our perception of the world. I have no doubt the Destroyer visions are real to you. But I’ve never seen anything like that, and until I do, I’m not convinced.”

“Then I hope you don’t. I hope you don’t ever have to know what I know…”

“You’re very knowledgeable about a lot of things. But on what's real and what's imaginary, I don’t think you know anything at all. The only place the Destroyer exists is in your thoughts. If the Destroyer wishes to convince me otherwise, let the Destroyer talk to me. Or the Creator, for that matter. Or the Ancients. I’m not going to believe in any of that just because someone else wants me to. I’d have to see it for myself.”

Ilmátarkt abruptly changed the subject.

"We both need to get to sleep. Tomorrow morning I want three eggs cooked with cheese and onions when I get up. The bread is stale, so you'll need to cook it and burn off the mold. Might as well cook all of it, because I don't think the scraps will be any good past tomorrow. Make sure you cook an extra portion (of eggs and bread) for yourself and your apprentice."

"Yes, my love."

Ilmátarkt fell asleep. Danka remained awake, studying his bare shoulders and the hair which had grown out on his head. She'd have to shave him: it would not do to have her husband looking unkempt. She tried to push aside her worries about his blasphemous musings that would have caused his execution almost anywhere in Europe if he ever shared them in public.

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