PREVIEW: Credo
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The LOST GENRE GUILD
Biblical Speculative Fiction
| Stephen L. Rice's short story "Credo" can be found in Light at the Edge of Darkness along with 26 other stories of Biblical speculative fiction.
Read more about the author, Stephen L. Rice. |
“Please forgive my intrusion,” the priest said as he sat down beside Martin’s friend.
“I am Father Joseph, and I must get to the harbor. It really is a matter of life or
death.”
“We aren’t going to New York harbor,” Jaeger snapped as the driver whipped up the
horses.
“Neither am I,” Father Joseph stated quietly. “I know where you both are bound.”
“There are other carriages,” Jaeger replied, and Martin thought he detected some
fear in his voice. “Indeed, we should have had our own, but the axle broke not long
before we left. Stupid luck.”
“Perhaps it was an act of God,” the priest remarked pleasantly. He added some other
comment under his breath—Martin could only make out that it was in Latin—and
Jaeger fell silent. In fact, if Martin had been the superstitious type, he would have
thought the genial cleric had cast a spell of some kind. Of course, Martin was not the
superstitious type. Yet there was something peculiar about Todd’s face, which
seemed frozen in a mask of rage, and Martin was about to inquire about his health
when the priest addressed him.
“I know that my presence has upset your friend, Martin, but it is your reaction that
concerns me more.”
Martin started, and he almost asked how the man knew his name. But he was not
about to concede anything to one simple enough to carry a crucifix. “I am a modern
man of science, sir; I respond to facts. I have only the fact that you have boarded our
coach and the assertion that it was for a good cause. That isn’t much to respond to.”
“I respond to truth, myself,” the priest replied affably. “It is the substance; facts are
merely its shadows, cast this way and that by the fleeting light of circumstance.”
“Facts and truth are the same thing. There is no truth that cannot be found in a
laboratory. All else is conjecture or superstition.”
“Even God? Even love?”
“There is no God. As for love, it is some kind of physical phenomenon, such as
Mesmer’s animal magnetism. All is physical; all may be observed and predicted. That is
the difference between scientific and superstitious minds.”
“You believe only in what you can see?”
“Not all observation is sight. Take disease. Superstitious people think it the work of
demons; medical science tells us that it is the influence of bad air, or miasma. Once
we have learned how to remove such impurities, all disease will disappear—a miracle
of science, not of an unverifiable God.”
“You seem to argue by time,” the priest observed. “Do you reject anything that isn’t
modern, then?”
“No. Sometimes the ancient ideas were true. For example, Dalton has recently begun
arguing for atomism—the idea that all matter is made up of tiny, indivisible particles
called ‘atoms.’ The ancient atomists of Greece knew that everything occurs by
physical necessity—simple cause and effect, without divine intervention.”
“I think what pleases you is the idea that there need be no god at all—that
everything arose on its own. I would agree with Plato: the beauty and complexity we
see require purposeful creation, not random mechanical forces. Can you think of an
explanation for how plants and animals arose that does not sound as fantastic as any
myth?”
“I am Father Joseph, and I must get to the harbor. It really is a matter of life or
death.”
“We aren’t going to New York harbor,” Jaeger snapped as the driver whipped up the
horses.
“Neither am I,” Father Joseph stated quietly. “I know where you both are bound.”
“There are other carriages,” Jaeger replied, and Martin thought he detected some
fear in his voice. “Indeed, we should have had our own, but the axle broke not long
before we left. Stupid luck.”
“Perhaps it was an act of God,” the priest remarked pleasantly. He added some other
comment under his breath—Martin could only make out that it was in Latin—and
Jaeger fell silent. In fact, if Martin had been the superstitious type, he would have
thought the genial cleric had cast a spell of some kind. Of course, Martin was not the
superstitious type. Yet there was something peculiar about Todd’s face, which
seemed frozen in a mask of rage, and Martin was about to inquire about his health
when the priest addressed him.
“I know that my presence has upset your friend, Martin, but it is your reaction that
concerns me more.”
Martin started, and he almost asked how the man knew his name. But he was not
about to concede anything to one simple enough to carry a crucifix. “I am a modern
man of science, sir; I respond to facts. I have only the fact that you have boarded our
coach and the assertion that it was for a good cause. That isn’t much to respond to.”
“I respond to truth, myself,” the priest replied affably. “It is the substance; facts are
merely its shadows, cast this way and that by the fleeting light of circumstance.”
“Facts and truth are the same thing. There is no truth that cannot be found in a
laboratory. All else is conjecture or superstition.”
“Even God? Even love?”
“There is no God. As for love, it is some kind of physical phenomenon, such as
Mesmer’s animal magnetism. All is physical; all may be observed and predicted. That is
the difference between scientific and superstitious minds.”
“You believe only in what you can see?”
“Not all observation is sight. Take disease. Superstitious people think it the work of
demons; medical science tells us that it is the influence of bad air, or miasma. Once
we have learned how to remove such impurities, all disease will disappear—a miracle
of science, not of an unverifiable God.”
“You seem to argue by time,” the priest observed. “Do you reject anything that isn’t
modern, then?”
“No. Sometimes the ancient ideas were true. For example, Dalton has recently begun
arguing for atomism—the idea that all matter is made up of tiny, indivisible particles
called ‘atoms.’ The ancient atomists of Greece knew that everything occurs by
physical necessity—simple cause and effect, without divine intervention.”
“I think what pleases you is the idea that there need be no god at all—that
everything arose on its own. I would agree with Plato: the beauty and complexity we
see require purposeful creation, not random mechanical forces. Can you think of an
explanation for how plants and animals arose that does not sound as fantastic as any
myth?”
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through its authors, fans; to endorse new releases that fit this criteria; and of course, to glorify Him.
through its authors, fans; to endorse new releases that fit this criteria; and of course, to glorify Him.
MARTIN STEADIED HIMSELF WHEN the carriage lurched to a
stop. Todd Jaeger, sitting across from him, sneered as he
looked out the window. “There is a reason ‘credo’ is related to
‘credulous,’” he said. “When Catholics meet superstitions and
miraculous nonsense, they simply say, ‘Credo’—‘I believe,’ no
matter what it is.”
Martin could now see the problem: a priest had somehow
stopped the carriage and wangled a ride. In fact, he was getting
in just as Jaeger finished his remark.
stop. Todd Jaeger, sitting across from him, sneered as he
looked out the window. “There is a reason ‘credo’ is related to
‘credulous,’” he said. “When Catholics meet superstitions and
miraculous nonsense, they simply say, ‘Credo’—‘I believe,’ no
matter what it is.”
Martin could now see the problem: a priest had somehow
stopped the carriage and wangled a ride. In fact, he was getting
in just as Jaeger finished his remark.
