“What has been will be again,” intoned Preserver Lyons, “what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Forever and ever, amen.” He raised a hand to the great crowd of faithful in the square below, but even as he did an immensely bright light fl ared in the dawn sky, like a second sun, and his hand involuntarily twitched to shade his eyes. The light arced across the fi rmament toward the mountains in the west, falling toward the horizon, sharp black shadows of the city’s buildings turning in its wake. A stunned silence followed, then a growing roar, a wave crashing against the immutable base of the temple of the Omniscient. One word was shouted over and over below, and whispered between the cowering lectors behind him on the balcony: fl ux, fl ux, fl ux! Lyons tried to shake off the terror that gripped him. He was the high priest of a civilization that had endured for countless aeons. Imagine the chaos if that word should spread! With sudden decision he stepped forward and again raised his hand. The crowd slowly quieted. “The Omniscient knows all and sees all,” he declaimed, amplifi ed voice booming across the square. “But It does not reveal all to Its followers. Don’t be afraid. The comet we witnessed was absent from the Almanac not because of any lapse, but because the Omniscient required your surprise. It is all one with the divine plan. May Stasis endure.” May Stasis endure, those watching murmured refl exively, even as Lyons turned toward the lectors. “Is it true?” asked Hami, her bare head studded with implants. “Did the Omniscient communicate with you?” “I said it, didn’t I?” He hurried past her into the temple. “Then why not with us? It’s nowhere in the Almanac. This will require enormous adjustments. If people change –” “If people change, then we will make adjustments according to the Omniscient’s directives, as we have done for nigh on three million years. And since those adjustments are obviously pressing, I suggest you get to it. I need to commune.” He could see the dissatisfaction in her eyes, but they had been bred to obey. He gave rapid instructions to the other lectors, dismissing them when he reached the gilded doors of the inner sanctum. He reached to press his hand against the identifi er, realized he was shaking, and took a moment to compose himself. There is nothing new under the sun. Inside he felt calmer, the shining complexities of the Omniscient surrounding him, Its machinery infi nitely subtle, gleaming instruments of silver and crystal woven throughout the circular room, like the nest of a benefi cent jeweled spider. He knelt before the huge golden globe at the room’s center and spoke. “Holy Omniscient, I have a question.” “Speak.” The voice of the Omniscient was soft and even. “Minutes ago we saw something very bright pass overhead. It was not in the Almanac. What was it?” “It is an interstellar vessel.” Lyons’ mouth fell open. It was seconds before he could speak. “From where?” “It is of unknown origin.” “Who sent it?” “Unknown.” “But … humanity is extinct. We are the last.” This was not a question, and so elicited no response. “Why wasn’t it detected earlier? Why wasn’t it intercepted by our planetary defenses?” “Unknown.” “Where is it now?” he squeaked, really panicked. A holographic map of the planet appeared, rotating to show a location some few hundred miles distant. “What should we do?” “I have sent disposal units to the landing site. This vessel’s entry into Stasis territory contravenes the Abrexa Treaty and presents a signifi cant source of phenomenal fl ux. It will be destroyed and Stasis restored. Do not be concerned.” Lyons was overcome. He wept. Some minutes later, he had left the sanctum and was eagerly giving instruction to the lectors when a powerful series of explosions, far distant, trembled through the massive edifi ce of the temple. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “The Omniscient said It would dispose of the problem. Now It has. Hami, how are we doing?” “Flux is at sixty percent throughout the city, Your Holiness, and seems to be spreading.” Despite the Omniscient’s assurances, Lyons’ heart leapt. Sixty percent! Certainly his own behavior had veered wildly from the forecast. But this wasn’t the fi rst time they’d experienced a little fl ux storm; he could remember the sudden earthquake twentyfi ve years past, when fl ux had peaked at ninety percent in the city for a distressing day until the Omniscient provided a new forecast. Events would return to predictability, to glorious stability. Soon they would each look the end of stasis BY JOEL TAGERT
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