Author : Duncan Shields, Staff Writer
‘His’ blue skin glinted in the harsh glare from the studio lights in the supreme court. Archbishops, cardinals and the Pope herself were seated there beside the president, the UN security chief, and our representative on the newly formed Galactic Council. The world watched.
I say ‘his’ for lack of a better pronoun. The English language had yet to adjust to a race that had five sexes. The male pronoun had been selected for all of them because they created babies by circle-jerking in sequence. The five ejaculates mixed, first the anchor glue, then the stamen juice, then the egg chain, then the catalyst, and finally the foam that hardened into a shell. Each lumpy ‘egg’ looked like a meringue and contained between ten and fifteen embryos. No one was sure if that qualified them as homosexual or not. They had complicated mating seasons.
The scientists had long latin names for each of the five sexes. The aliens told each other apart by skin markings and pheromones. I knew some people that said they could tell them apart but I doubted that.
They all looked the same to me.
This alien wanted to become a priest.
This alien claimed to have been called by God.
So far, ‘he’ was the only one of his race to come forward as wanting to join the clergy. Some of the aliens had attended church in a few cities since first contact ten years ago. Some of them had gotten jobs and gone to schools as well. They were tolerated but as far as I was concerned, this was too far.
I was huddled in the cold on the roof looking at ‘his’ face. I had a clear view of ‘him’ through the scope on my rifle. I was waiting for the verdict.
If they proclaimed that he was allowed to serve in the church, I was going to pull the trigger. I’d served in the army. I’d performed black ops. I was a Christian. I’d gone off the reservation for this. This was an independent mission but one I felt had to be done.
The com buzzed in my ear with the live feed. The jury foreperson had taken the microphone. Over three-quarters of the earth was watching.
“We find the alien capable of joining the church. The universe belongs to God. We are not to judge whom God calls.” said the foreman. He glanced at the Pope. She nodded her head.
The murmurs of the courtroom rose in my ear. My trigger finger tightened.
The blue-skinned alien looked directly up into my scope, making the sign of the cross. Then he closed his eyes.
Startled, I didn’t pull the trigger. He knew I was there. What else did he know? Then I realized what was happening. I relaxed.
I hated the aliens. I hated the aliens joining the church even more. But I didn’t pull the trigger.
I didn’t want to create another Jesus.
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