5. THE PRIEST'S LESSON

Fil is off to fulfill her ambition.

Father Gyd had lived on Terraful since his birth a century or so earlier. He had been educated by a perfectoid that had actually been an earlier incarnation of Zoz, and had learned all the delights of play with his fellow pupils until, in his thirties, he’d found Lym and had done something very few men did in this modern age, and fallen deeply and irretrievable in love with her. And she was a fem with more than her fair share of wit, intelligence, humour and bosom, and someone he believed was a kindred spirit.

It did sometimes happen, of course. Men and fems did fall in love, and it was then that they sought for permits to enjoy Michaelmas, that sacred day when universal contraception was neutralised for a chosen few with permits, and they could enjoy the joys of procreation, just like the ancients had.

Not everyone enjoyed any chance at Michaelmas at all. The truth of the matter, though, was that many seeking a permit had formed a variety of other relationships and thus excluded themselves from the promise of a permit. Permits were for the monogamous only, for it was only the monogamous who could be trusted to rear the next generation.

Gyd and Lym had obtained a permit, and Lym had rejoiced and demonstrated her everlasting, never-ending love for Gyd by drowning in a broad stream whilst trying to swim across its widest part without interfering in any way with a single Untouchable. It was brave foolhardiness on her part, a combination of instinctive daring and a wish to demonstrate how deep her love for Gyd was. She had drowned half way across and although they had tried to resuscitate her they had been too late. People did die like they always had, and Lym was dead. Gyd’s heart was broken.

Gyd had sought refuge and solace in a Priestery where priests were trained for their main task in life, preparing the living for death, because people did die despite many attempts to thwart it. Life was not a thing of immortality though it was a considerably more lengthy affair than it had been before the Great Chaos. Many lasted well into their second centuries before nature reclaimed them, and it was the task of priests to ease their way out of life by taking away their pain or whatever else afflicted them (senility was not uncommon, and it could be nasty) with the use of a high voltage necklace.

Having sought refuge in the Priestery Gyd had expected to wear the necklace himself and thus be eased out of life in a spasmodic jerk, but that didn’t happen: he was, after all, still too young. Instead he ended up as a Priest himself, with all the proper qualifications, but no Lym. But then, no Priest had a life-fem because the one and only remnant of the old celibacy traditions of the Priesthood was that they should live alone. No male love and certainly no fem to play with, though it was fully expected for them to play until their dotage.

And most said it was a good life, because of the sacred Prostitutes who kept them both alive and sane.

It was to this Priest that Zoz decided to take her student Fil.

Father Gyd was in his chapel and looked up when he heard the door open. It was hardly ever locked, so he rarely had to disturb whatever (and sometimes whoever) he was doing in order to respond to a knock or doorbell. This time he had been studying one of his favourite ancient texts, written in a language that few in this age could translate, concerning the spell that turned the Maybot witch into a fairy cake, which, according to the legend, was fed on a platter to a host of five thousand worshippers who had come, blindfold, to watch her melt.

“Why, Zoz,” he said with a broad smile, “and what delight do we have here?” he added whe he noticed the radiant though scarred Fil.

“This is my student Fil, who has expressed her desire to train as a prostitute, having passed her second decade of life,” replied the perfectoid. “She was scarred when younger as you may notice, being badly injured in an industrial accident, and may need some attention to her facial features, attention that her parents, may they be blessed, can’t afford as they merely are lowly paid bankers.”

“Then if she succeeds in her planned profession she will be able to lavish great riches on her folk in their older years,” nodded Gyd, and he smiled at Fil. “Be a darling, and undress,” he requested, “so that I can judge your suitability for the greatest calling of them all.”

“I knew you would want to glance upon her, so she is wearing just the frock you see before you,” nodded Zoz, “come, young lady, don’t be shy.”

“I have never been shy about being seen,” replied Fil, a little fiercely.

“I like her spirit,” grinned Gyd, and when Fil had lowered her frock until it was like a puddle at her feet, he nodded his head with uncharacteristic vigour. “Yes, my dear, you’ll do,” he approved, “you’ll make a good prostitute and may even shine brightly like a star on Terraful. But first we will have that poor face of yours seen to. There are surgeons aplenty at my beck and call, and you shall have the best.”

He turned to Zoz, and winked at the perfectoid, whose face was as dispassionate and non-committal as ever. “She will do,” he murmured, “she will do very well indeed.”

“Then I will leave her with you,” nodded the teacher, “and leave her final training up to you.”

“You are too kind,” murmured the Priest, “and I will do my very best for her, you can be assured of that. She will make a very fine and highly rewarded prostitute. I will see to that. Yes, I will!”

And he bade Fil to pull her frock up and fasten it, then follow him into the garden of Aphrodite, where she would learn over the next few weeks the sort of games that Priests like to play.

After all, it was their birthright.

© Peter Rogerson 14.04.19

Author's Note

I've categorised this as science fiction, though a better classification would be futurist fiction.