All Kindreds

4: Travesty

All alone in this godless world. Liz shivered.

What place did these creatures have in God's sight? They were as intelligent as humans. Did they have souls? What happened to them when they died?

For that matter, what about dogs and dolphins and elephants? They were smart and aware and caring about others in their packs and pods and herds. Did they have souls? Liz couldn't imagine a life -- even a spiritual existence, if that's what life after death was -- inhabited only by people. And if God, who saw even the sparrow in its fall, took care of earthly creatures, why would He ignore the beings of these other realms?

Did they know of Him? Did they pray?

As Liz got to her feet beside the transit cradle, the louder of the two minotaurs wheeled around, breaking off the unintelligible argument and launching into commonspeech. "Hear, all! Hear, all in sound of my voice! Witness that my employee refuses to honor his contract!"

"'Classic drama,' he told me," the other retorted. "A 'respectable' role. And now he asks me to betray my most cherished values and make a spectacle of what should be held in reverence."

"I can think of no role less classic than this, you short-haired mud-wallower! Backing out of a contract--" Liz's new sponsor rumbled and snorted. Both minotaurs were circling by now, heads lowered, glaring at each other under heavy brows and threatening horns.

"Classic drama falls in the category of fiction," the offended actor said. "This, this travesty strikes at the heart of reality!"

"Ancient prophecies remain fantasy until they come to pass. Then and only then will I call them reality. For now, they are indeed fiction."

"Even if I were to set my convictions aside, what about professional ethics? What kind of producer are you? Every actor reserves the right to turn down a role that proves unsuitable."