8 Chapter 6

Theocracy is the art of thinking together.

—KONIG FURIMMER

The knight in the book Morgen read thought he was special. He certainly acted like he was special, though as far as Morgen could tell, he had yet to do anything of note. Sure, predictably enough the knight would eventually kill someone evil, but did this justify acting special now?

Everyone thought they were special, and maybe they were in some small way. Morgen couldn't be sure; a lot of people seemed awfully not special. But he was special. Superspecial, and he knew it. He would be a god.

Wait! Like the knight, I haven't yet done anything particularly special. Was he special now, or would he be special later?

There was a quiet knock on the door and the High Priest entered his study room. Morgen smiled up at Konig, who stood ramrod straight, arms crossed. The High Priest stared at him for several seconds before returning the smile. Strange how he does that. It's like he has to decide to smile before anything happens on his face.

"How go your studies?" Konig asked, dropping the smile.

Morgen glanced at the bookshelf and the books arranged there in a complex system involving their age, the color of the spine, subject, author, and how much Morgen enjoyed reading them. Aufschlag always said they were random, but they weren't. Morgen grimaced at the books. The tome on the Menschheit Letzte Imperium . . . did its spine project just ever so slightly farther out than the other books? He leaned in and nudged it back. There, better. "Well," Morgen answered finally. "Though this"—he held up the storybook he'd been reading—"probably doesn't count as study."

Konig waved it away without looking at the book. "You'll learn something from everything you read. Not all knowledge is to be found in great tomes."

That sounded wise. Could he truly learn something from even the lowest, most vulgar source?

"Am I special?" Morgen asked.

"Of course. You will be a god."

"I will be a god. I'm not one yet. Am I special now?"

"Yes, if just because of your potential. No one else has what you have."

"So my potential makes me special."

"Yes."

"My potential makes me special even if I don't Ascend?"

"You will Ascend."

"But if I didn't?"

"You will," Konig said, leaning forward to stare into Morgen's eyes.

Why does he always do that when he really wants me to believe something?

"But potential matters?" Morgen asked.

Konig stood straight again, seemingly content he'd achieved something. "Yes, of course."

"So if I meet someone with great potential, they're special. Even if they never do anything with it."

"I'm not sure I'd word it like—"

"What kind of god will I be?"

The Theocrat blinked, eyebrows crinkling inward. "The right kind."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll be the god the Geborene need."

That made sense. Their faith made him a god and so their faith would shape that god. He'd be what they thought he was.

"What kind of god do the people think I will be?" Morgen asked.

"The right kind."

Was this true? It did make sense. Why would the people want the wrong kind of god?

"What kind of god do the people want?"

"The right kind."

It made sense as an answer, but Morgen still felt something was missing.

"Once I become a god, all my decisions will be perfect and godlike?"

"It is not being a god which makes one perfect. The old gods are fallible. We will end all that."

"Fablible?"

"Fallible. They make mistakes. The old gods caused more death and misery than . . ." Konig didn't finish.

More death and misery than what?

"I can't be fallible. I must be perfect." He checked his hands, examining each fingernail. They were clean. Spotless. "I'll be a perfect god. Clean and mighty."

Konig glanced at Morgen's hands and his eyebrows did that crinkly thing again. "You will be perfect."

Morgen wanted to say more, but Konig awkwardly ruffled his hair, said something about having business to attend to, and left.

"I'm going to make the other gods behave right," Morgen told the empty room. "The way gods are supposed to behave."

He'd told Aufschlag about his plan and the Chief Scientist said it was a good one, and a great gift for Konig. Aufschlag also said Konig didn't like bragging and the best thing Morgen could do would be to show him rather than telling him. So it was their secret, his and Aufschlag's, until he Ascended.

Morgen scowled at the book on the Menschheit Letzte Imperium. It sat too far back, leaving a small imperfection marring the beauty of his aligned books. Should he move the others back, or slide it forward? After several minutes' contemplation, Morgen pulled it forward.