The Religion of Death (Part 2)

He realised that he was strangely content amongst the stars, journeying from world to world, skipping across the ocean of life as a small stone that went unnoticed until it eventually sank. He still felt the desire to settle but he knew that this was where he belonged, serving the people and serving God… and maybe even himself. That brought his spirit joy, and with that came a fulfilment like no other. A home was but a place of comfort, it was an ostensible construction; his body was the home for his soul and that was the only home he felt that he would ever need.

- Life goes on, David, it’s the way of things, - said Crispen. - One candle ceases to burn while two more are lit, but hardly anyone notices. Only the Executioners, the recorders of life like you, even pause. You’ll never get any credit or thanks for that. That, too, is the way of things. -

"Yes, it is," agreed David simply.

He need say no more because he already knew this. He was not only a Slayer and a recorder of life, a releaser of pain, he was an observer of culture as well. When people became so close to life that they loved it above all things, they clung to it fiercely and were not open to accepting anything else; but he served life and that allowed him to see humanity as a whole, to do what few others could — to see the universe from a distance, to take part in it and help shape the lives of others. The Confederation was rich with over two hundred worlds fertile with billions of people each with a life, with a soul, with a spirit, with an aura, with what granted them individuality, what made them them. Amongst the rivers of life and time one individual might seem insignificant, but he knew the opposite was the reality. All life was sacred, the large and the small, every person deserved respect until they themselves proved otherwise. Executioners were the keepers of memories, guardians of the stor ies of life. There was never a shortage of death, nor was there ever a shortage of life. That was simply the never ending cycle of the universe and life itself, too complex to ever understand, the ultimate intelligence forever beyond reach.

David turned from his thoughts and the display screen to a commterminal where he quickly accessed his messages. There were ten new requests for Slaying, as he knew there would be — though obviously he did not know it’d be that exact number. Deanna was dead, Robert Chandler would live for a while longer, as would David himself; it was time to move on to the next person deserving of his attention.

He made his selection and Crispen selected the course. David Reynolds swung his chair round to face forwards. He felt nothing as the Charlotte lurched into lightspeed with a bright flash of blue and luminous white, leaving the colonyworld of Flint far behind.