Tevun-Krus #100

94 - A Patient Man - @theidiotmachine - Theological SF

A Patient Man

By theidiotmachine

There is a star, an M-type red dwarf, not far from the main shipping lane that runs up the Sagittarius Arm. It has a planet orbiting it, and on that planet, there's a monastery.

Because the planet orbits the star so closely, one face is always locked towards it, bathed in its ferocious crimson glow. The monastery is on the planet's pole, a dome encased in solar panels on the light side and bristling with heat radiators on the other. From space, it looks like a great porcupine, huddled down, staring at the sun: and, as a result, it's called Sahudi monastery.

It had taken Mir Davani four years to get here, although through time dilation and cryosleep he had experienced it as a few months. But Davani was a patient man, and he hadn't minded even that.

The tiny shuttle landed on the dark side of the planet, thick dust blasted up and then falling down hard in the vacuum, bouncing on the rocks. The landing pads were old and rarely used, but they worked well enough; and when the airlock hissed open, and the monks let him in, he smiled as they showed him to his quarters. They didn't ask questions about him. They never do.

The next morning, he was shown the huge black pipes that run water from the purifier into the hydroponic areas. They gave him a brush, and a harness, and overalls, and told him that he needed to scrub pipe thirty six. He nodded, thoughtfully.

'Do we have robots for this?', he asked.

'No,' replied the nun. 'It's good work. Hard, and worthwhile, and quiet.'

He nodded again.

'Thank you, sister. Tell me: do you believe in redemption?'

She took the question seriously.

'If we didn't, none of us would be here.'

'Thank you, sister,' said Davani, and smiled. He picked up the brush, clipped on the harness, and climbed into the mouth of the pipe.

# # #

Over the next month, he worked at many jobs like this; and when he could, he spoke to the other inhabitants of the monastery. Some had been born there; some had come there from other worlds. Some would not speak of their past, and so he could not tell. Some were full members of the religion; others were waiting their time to be accepted into the order. Others were just passing through. To all of them, he asked the same question: do you believe in redemption?

One morning he was sitting in the weaving hall, making burlap cloth to line the plant pots in the orchards. He was alone, pushing the shuttle through the loom, singing a soft song as he worked.

The abbess walked in, and picked up a chair. She took it to where Davani was sitting; and she sat with him and watched him work. He looked up at her and smiled.

'Mir Davani,' she said. 'I haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting you. I'd like to welcome you to our home.'

'Abess,' he said, not stopping his work. 'Thank you. It's a pleasure being here.'

'I hear you're settling in well,' she said. She looked at the cloth slowly spilling from the machine. 'This is good work. Most don't get this proficient for some time.'

'I'm a patient man,' he replied. 'It's the only virtue I have, but it serves me well.'

She smiled and narrowed her eyes. 'So say you. I hear one other thing about you: that you want redemption. I'm sorry to say this, but we can't redeem you, Mir. Only you can do that, in the eyes of our God. But we can support you on your way.'