Darkroom
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Dark DaysChapter 2 free porn video
Elias regarded Jonas as he prepared a nut butter and sweet bean spread sandwich. "Harrah wasn't hungry earlier, so I'm taking this snack to her."
"Did you give her the book?"
"Yes."
"Was she happy to have it?"
"I suppose ... We did have a rather heated discussion."
"Discuss what?" Elias asked.
"We discussed faith. I was encouraging her to approach her faith with some critical thinking."
Elias shook his head. "It's not a good idea to argue religion ... especially with someone as devout as a Galactic. Their beliefs won't hold up to scrutiny -- but they hang on to them with the tenacity of a disadvantaged cousin."
"I don't know ... Harrah's a smart girl. I think I made a good argument. Maybe I planted a seed."
Jonas carried a plate upstairs and rapped on the door jamb. "Good evening -- are you hungry?"
"I could use a snack." Harrah shifted her position and Jonas placed the plate on her lap. "Thank you."
"You're welcome ... Harrah -- you said you."
She regarded him. "I'm happy we had that discussion on faith, Jonas. I think what you told me made sense."
He smiled. "I'm pleased ... but what happened to the thee-thou?"
"What especially made sense was your comment about faith in ones eyes perceiving reality. At that moment I realized..." Her eyes grew wide. "I might already have passed over." She held up the book. "It is written that when the time of ones passing arrives, a holy messenger is sent by our Lord to escort him. YOU might be that messenger and I might now be in our Lord's kingdom. Your talk of faith and perception must be your way of preparing me to behold what's to come!"
Jonas cradled his forehead in his palm. "No, no, no, Harrah. I assure you that you are on the same world as before. Elias and I RESCUED you from passing -- we did not ... facilitate it. If you are using 'you' because you fear offending some lordly emissary ... please go back to thee-thou."
"But ... do you ... dost thou admit what I said is ... possible?"
"No. It is not possible."
"Why dost thou say it's not possible?"
"Because I KNOW who I am."
"Jonas -- earlier thou asked me to suspend MY faith ... and thou said that THY faith in thine own eyes perceiving reality was as profound and as strong and as untestable as MY faith in my lord. Those were your words. I set aside my faith and agreed that thy proposition on our sacred writing was POSSIBLE however unlikely. Why can thou not set aside THY faith and concede the possibility -- however unlikely -- that thou art indeed a holy messenger?"
"You've been thinking about this all afternoon, haven't you?" Harrah broke into a broad grin. Jonas glared at her. "Eat your sandwich. Tomorrow after breakfast I'll escort you back to you compound." He watched her take bites. "And not a moment too soon," he muttered under his breath.
Jonas led the way up the ridge, poking his staff into the turf as he climbed. Beside him Harrah trudged. "Are you doing all right?" Jonas asked. "I mean -- it's quite soon after your ordeal to be making this sort of exertion."
"I'm fine," she replied, "but I would like to rest a moment." She sat on an outcropping of basalt to catch her breath. "Jonas -- can we agree to disagree on the topic of faith?"
He regarded her. "Do you mean to put it off-limits for discussion?"
"Exactly. It's clear to me that our beliefs cannot be reconciled. The only way would be for one of us to give up his faith. I'm not ready to give up mine and I know thou art not ready to give up thine."
"Other than that, what do we have to discuss?"
"Plenty, dost thou not think? Thou hast been a good friend."
"Those words ... thee and thou ... trip so easily off your tongue. It's really quite charming to hear you speak. I welcome you as a friend, Harrah. I also recognize that once you return to your compound I'll probably never see you again."
"I'll carry thee in my heart forever, Jonas."
"Are you ready to proceed?"
Harrah stood and walked beside Jonas. Their hands touched and they locked fingers. "Dost thou see?" she asked. "Our minds do run in the same channel."
"I do believe you have a streak of a free spirit in you, Harrah." She made a demure smile. "Tell me -- how did you manage to get out of your compound?"
"I'll show thee."
"But -- I'd imagine the fiancee of Prophet Zahn would be carefully watched."
She smiled again. "I have two watchers, but they live in opposite wings of the sister's residence. I simply tell Sister Dorcas that I am going to spend time with Sister Agnes..."
"And then you tell Sister Agnes that you're with Sister Dorcas."
"Both sisters are relieved not to be bothered with watching me -- they can get on with their other responsibilities."
"But you've been gone four days. Certainly you've been missed."
"It is easier to gain forgiveness than permission."
"Is that one of your holy writings?"
"No -- but it's something that's served me well so far. So long as I return whole and healthy that forgiveness should be forthcoming."
They reached the top of the ridge. The Galactic compound stretched below. "What's the best route?" Jonas asked.
Harrah pointed "That direction."
"Isn't that the long way 'round? The gate is over there."
"We are not going to the gate. I told thee I would show thee."
"Fine. Lead the way."
Harrah lifted the hem of her robe and they trundled down the slope toward the back of the compound. Jonas regarded her calves as she ran.
"Whoa -- slow down..."
Harrah giggled, stopped and turned toward him. "I go up hill faster and you go down faster," he panted.
The slope grew less steep and they walked together toward the fence surrounding the compound. "It's along here, somewhere," she said and began pressing her hand against the panels making up the fence.
"Isn't someone apt to see us?"
"No ... not likely. These fields have been fallow for years. The brothers and sisters prefer to farm the fields closer to the residences ... Here!"
She pressed her hand on the upper portion of a panel and its bottom swung outward. "See? The nails holding the bottom have rusted loose. Well -- good bye, Jonas. It's been fun having thee as a friend."
"Wait, Harrah..." He approached her and regarded her face. "You are a very pretty girl and I'm sure you'll make your prophet very happy. He's a lucky guy ... What am I saying? Luck had nothing to do with it. Your prophet is the unquestioned leader of your people. He has his pick of women and he picked you. Well -- I won't begrudge anything to you, Harrah. I do hope you have a good time with him."
She nodded. "Thanks, Jonas." She started to duck under the fence.
"Wait, Harrah ... Don't be a stranger. You know where our village lies and you know where I'll be. Any time you'd like to visit -- we'd welcome you."
"Jonas ... I belong to my people and thou belongst to thine. My people are in here."
Jonas leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. She turned her face and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Friends forever, Jonas. I hope thou enjoys thy upcoming festival." She waved to him and ducked under the fence. Jonas released the panel and it flopped back into position.
Jonas approached Elias's house. He looked up in the sky -- their world's mother planet was filling the eastern quadrant of the sky, and her rings extended past the zenith. In not too many days their planet cover their sun, and noon would be not much brighter than midnight.
He stepped into the workshop and saw Jonas distilling the nectar for the upcoming festival. "Well, Jonas," the old man asked, "did you see her home safe and sound?"
"Safe, yes. How sound remains to be seen. I imagine she will catch it from her watchers, being gone for four days."
"She belongs with her people."
"Someone else said something like that quite recently."
"I, for one, am glad to see her gone," Elias replied.
"Why do you say that?"
"I don't want to be crosswise with the Galactics. Harboring such a one would be provocative to say the least."
"I suppose ... still ... I had gotten used to having her around.
Jonas stood at a bench in Elias's workshop, filling tiny vials with an orange syrup. "We need a thousand of these for this festival?" he asked.
"Yes," his mentor replied. "There will be three venues this year."
"Elias -- don't you wonder what life on Earth is like right now?"
"I don't give it much thought," Elias replied. "There very well could be no life on Earth as we speak."
"What about the marvelous technology that brought us here?"
"That hasn't been lost, Jonas. The knowledge is safely set aside for when we're ready to use it."
"What's stopping us?"
"Infrastructure, Jonas. Before we can have semiconductors we must have foundries. This village has been here five generations -- just over one hundred standards. When our forebears arrived, we were just five hundred. Now, we've grown to over three thousand here in the village and several hundred more who have forged outward on their own to live in the wilderness."
"There were five hundred Galactics, too ... weren't there?"
"Yes and their numbers have dwindled. The first settlers did what pioneers always must do -- they survived by using their own muscles to exploit the land. Now ... we have a village built of stone and timber. Our crops are ample, and we've learned to domesticate some native plants and animals. We've learned what wild game is palatable. We have factories to produce our daily consumables ... we have Stirling engines to drive tractors to plow our fields and to transport our goods..."
"And, to run our mills," Jonas interjected. "The engine you use to power your mechanical lung is a small mill engine, isn't it?"
"That's correct ... We have lignite to fuel our fires and vegetable oil to light our lamps. The village council is planning to install electricity in the streets within the next five standards. The first generating station is under construction, now. That will bring rapid change. Remember, Jonas -- Rome wasn't built in a day. She wasn't built in a century."
"I still don't understand why we had to bring five hundred Galactics on that voyage."
"The Galactic church provided the lion's share of the funds to build the starship, while the explorers provided the labor and know-how. The agreement was fifty-fifty as far as ship's company was concerned. From the diaries I have read, it was a contentious journey."
"And we have grown from five hundred to three thousand..."
" ... in only five generations, Jonas. Think of it -- if we continue apace, in another five we'll number twenty thousand, and in five more over a hundred thousand. At that point, returning to the stars becomes within reach. We'll build another starship and send another thousand off to some world with a hospitable climate and compatible biosphere to start the process over."
"With or without the help of the Galactics," Jonas interjected. "Preferably, without."
"I'm sure by then the Galactics won't even be a memory, here. That's not to say something else -- perhaps more odious -- will crop up; given our species seeming need for that sort of thing."
Jonas set down the syringe he was using to fill the ampoules. "I'm getting bleary-eyed doing this. You know I detest repetitive work."
"It's once a year, Jonas. By the way, have you given any thought to inviting a companion for festival?"
"No ... I figured I'd simply sit in the circle." He resumed filling the vials. "I know who I would like to invite."
"Who's that?" Elias glanced his way. "Harrah? You'd best forget about her, lad."
"I know ... but it's difficult. I miss her. The more I think of her marrying that prophet the more it disturbs me."
"It's none of our affair, Jonas. Remember that."
A face appeared in the workshop's Dutch door that opened onto the street. "Glass man," he said.
"Jonas -- can you give Donal our broken glass?"
Jonas picked up a bucket, carried it outside and dumped it into a barrel on Donal's wagon. "Not much today I'm afraid," Jonas remarked.
The glass man recorded a reading on a scale, made a notation on a small tablet and retrieved from a pocket a pasteboard lozenge, stamped on one side with his moniker. He jotted a pair of figures on the reverse and handed it to Jonas. Sweet, brown-grey smoke came from his tractor's firebox. "Are you getting ready for festival?" Donal asked him.
"Yes I am. Elias and I are filling the vials."
"Do you have enough? I can blow more."
"We have enough -- one thousand ... and they all must be filled by hand."
"Care to give me a sample taste of the nectar?"
"Sorry, Donal," Jonas replied. "You must wait 'til festival like everyone else."
"Then, good-day, Master Jonas." Donal sat on his tractor, engaged the Stirling engine and steered it to the next house on the street. "Glass man," he shouted.
Jonas stepped back into the workshop holding the card aloft. "Donal's credit marker," he said.
Lianne
- 17.07.2021
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