The Priest – Part 4
I returned to my quarters to rest and escape from the reminder of the sullying touch of the Immaterium. I trusted Pron to take care of matters, but in time I owed him an explanation.
Whether to provide the truth was something I had not yet decided.
I was sure of myself, despite the need of the override circuits to rescue me from that touch. The idea of surrendering to the Immaterium, for any base reason as power, was foreign to both my nature and the foundation of my training as a Priest. If we could not be counted upon to stand firm, then what hope was there for humanity as we passed through another ten millennia of Intersection?
And such stakes required the Church to cast a cold eye upon any of Her minions that might bring doubt upon themselves.
My record was good, but no man was beyond reproach.
I dismissed the servants and sealed my private bedchamber, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I had not taken to bed in months, and while I could pass many more without ill-effect, I decided that old fashioned sleep would be useful. It was good to periodically surrender our highly controlled consciousness to the unpredictable chaos of natural dreams.
But first, I turned to the obligatory painting of the Matriarch and bowed. The invocations rolled from my tongue, lubricated by centuries of practice, and the vault opened in the floor in front of me. In the present era, some would consider it ostentatious in its simplicity, with sharp angles and abstract designs devoid of the fashionable gargoyles leering from every cornice. The plain style evoked memories of an era long past, when I knew the woman represented by this little monument in my bedroom. The marble lid, salvaged from an old temple on Terra, slid aside and revealed a small chamber.
I kneeled and grasped the small jeweled orb with my organic hand, feeling the warmth of the containment system. A green telltale flashed in time with my heart. Her name was engraved on the outside, and I ran my fingers over the etching.
I needed her strength. But I could not bring myself to visit her. It would be cruel to visit her and let her see the truth of how much time had passed since we last lay together in corporeal form. My heart ached to access the memories of us together, but the body I knew had faded to dust in the centuries since I had last seen her alive.
I was keenly aware of the millennia still to pass before I could see her again. For Priests cannot marry.
And I was a Priest until my duty was discharged.
I replaced the vessel in the vault and retired to bed, only to struggle through eternal dreams filled with the weary weight of time.
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