"What is religion?"
The young man asked him to please stand by. Apparently, he wasn't the religion expert.
The screen cleared and a woman in her middle years appeared. She had a strong chin and spoke with a high-pitched voice that made her words clipped and precise.
"Religion is a set of beliefs concerning the nature and purpose of the universe, held in common by anywhere from a few individuals to entire populations. The larger congregations usually gather to practice some form of ritual observance.
"They also preach a preset moral code. The code may be broad, declaring what's right and wrong in human affairs, or more detailed, dictating minutiae such as dress, diet and hairstyle. In some cases, compliance is left to the individual-a decision between each person and their god. In more extreme cases, it's enforced by authoritarian theocracies."
Nathaniel was having trouble focusing. The woman had said things that would have earned her a significant teaching from the vicars. But he chose to pursue the word she used last.
"What is the-o-cra-cy?"
"Please stand by."
The young expert on politics was back. His patience seemed endless.
"A theocracy is government combined with religion. Using the force of moral certitude, theocracies tend to be more rigid and less tolerant. Generally, the civil and religious codes are one and enforced by a clerical class."
Finally, something he could tie to his world.
"Is the Temple of Light a theocracy?"
"Yes. One example. If you'd like to learn about others, go to the politics section."
The time had come to accept the advice. He peered into the corridor next to the screen, then went down it as he'd been told.
***
Orah was struggling. The library back home contained fewer than a hundred books, all of which she'd read by the time she was thirteen. Now, as she wandered the keep, she found more areas of knowledge than there were books in Little Pond.
She searched for something familiar. The term "pharmaceutics" caught her eye, reminiscent of the village pharmacy. She found the viewing area and waited for the screen to light up. Aman appeared who looked like an elder, with gray hair and a face creased with lines of wisdom. But in place of a black tunic, he wore a white coat.
"Welcome to the subject of pharmaceutics. Here you'll find all you need for the assembling of medicines. Take a moment to look at the following list and select one by speaking its name. Some may be hard to pronounce, so you can also touch the word on the screen."
His image was replaced by a list of words, most with too many syllables and almost all unpronounceable. Orah tried to find one she recognized and gave up. She had more pressing questions.
"Help."
The elder reappeared.
"Where did these medicines come from? Are they really a gift from the light?"
The man's image froze on the screen. When she was done, he replied.
"It's easy for those of us who record our knowledge to forget how you were raised. I'd like to tell you these marvels were a gift from above, but that's not how it happened. In my age, groups of dedicated researchers worked to find cures for every ailment known. The Temple tried to take credit, but nothing could be further from the truth. These medicines were the result of hard work and individual brilliance."
He went on to explain how people devoted their lives to find a cure for a single disease. The vicars kept the knowledge to make medicines, but the freedom needed for research clashed with their beliefs. The ability to discover new medicines was lost.
Orah listened intently. It matched what the vicar of Bradford had said, but she wanted to know more.
"What would I have to learn to discover a new medicine?"
The screen went blank. When the elder returned, he had a more formal demeanor.
"We're pleased you've chosen to pursue medical research. As a child of light, you've had a limited education, but all you need to learn is here in the keep. Subjects you must master include... "
He rattled off a number of strange words-biology, chemistry, biochemistry, microbiology, genetics-until Orah stopped him abruptly.
"I'm not following."
"If you'd prefer to have the course on paper, say print."
"Print."
A slot appeared next to the screen, and moments later a piece of paper slid out. On it was the helper's list, printed in the block lettering associated with the Temple. Another miracle demystified.
Orah spent the next few days trying to grasp these subjects, hoping to learn how to discover new medicines. She found the keepmasters knew the inner workings of the body. But the science underlying it was too complex for a summer's study.
Undaunted, she searched for a simpler topic, one she could master in a matter of weeks. She stumbled upon mathematics. The word sounded familiar, like the arithmetic she'd studied in school. She'd always been good at numbers, but her experience here was similar to that of medicine, and just as frustrating.
A different helper congratulated her on accepting the challenge of mathematics, a discipline that even in his own day was mastered by only the brightest. Since she was limited to what the Temple had taught, she'd have to start with the basics, things called algebra and geometry, before undertaking the differential calculus.
Orah worked hard, natural stubbornness stiffening her resolve. She'd show the helper-irrational though it may be-that given enough time, she could master anything. But progress was slow. After a week, she'd had enough. She understood the need for medicine but was vague on the goal of mathematics. She dragged her fingers through her hair and summoned the helper.
"What's the purpose of mathematics?"
"In addition to its abstract elegance," the helper said, "it's used to express form and relationship throughout nature."
"OK... If I master these subjects, you said I could proceed to the differential calculus. What's that for?"
"To measure rate of change as conditions vary."
"Give an example."
"Describing the laws of motion in physics."
"A more specific example, please."
"Predicting the path of celestial bodies."
She straightened in her chair, frustration turning to curiosity.
"What do you mean by celestial bodies?"
"Objects in the heavens."
"Such as?"
"The moon, the planets, the stars."
Her breath became short and she needed to compose herself before asking the next question.
"Why would you need to know that?"
"To allow ships to rendezvous with objects at high speeds from great distances."
Ships going to the heavens?
She became lightheaded. What if Nathaniel was right, that the keep was worth risking their lives for? The question burst from her lips.
"Are you saying you've traveled to the stars?"
The screen went blank. A new helper appeared, older than the former and, to her relief, less arrogant. He greeted her in the usual way.
"Welcome to the subject of astronomy. How may I help you?"
She spoke the words as if each was being crafted for the first time.
"Have you... traveled... to the stars?"
The man's image froze. When it moved again, he graciously responded.
"Yes. We've traveled to the stars. Do you have another question?"
But there was nothing left to say. Instead, Orah struggled to catch up to the changes in her sense of things, changes that were coming too fast.
Changes that threatened to tear her world apart.
***
Orah was reluctant to discuss what she'd learned. She didn't quite believe it herself. As she munched on a gob of reconstituted carrot, she grumbled between bites.
"I feel so dumb in the keep."
She snapped a glance at Thomas, expecting him to pounce on her confession, but he was almost complimentary.
"That's what I was afraid of. If you can't figure it out, what chance do I have?"
She'd wondered whether Thomas ever left the dining room and decided to take advantage of the opening.
"You never tell us anything, Thomas. What are you doing with your time?"
"I'm using it as well as you, only I'm exerting myself less."
"Really? What did you learn today?"
Thomas leaned back and put his feet up on the table, carefully avoiding the containers of half-eaten food.
"Today I studied the difference between light and darkness. It's more subtle than you'd think."
Orah glared at him, not sure whether to be interested or annoyed. "Please enlighten me."
"With the help of the keepmasters, I've discovered... " he paused for effect "... .something called custard. It comes in vanilla and chocolate, and is the perfect de-hy-drat-ed food. Vanilla is light and delicious, but I prefer the darker chocolate."
Orah slapped his feet off the table. "I'm so pleased you've chosen to waste your time. Do you know what you're missing?"
"No. And I haven't heard anything from you. Please enlighten me."
She flopped back onto her chair and blew away a curl.
"I've been trying to learn, but haven't found anything I can master so quickly. If I come back, I'd choose one topic and stick to it for years. If the Temple were overthrown tomorrow, it'd take a generation to relearn all this."
She took a bite of something that claimed to be chicken, then turned to Nathaniel.
"What about you? Any more luck?"
"I've been studying history," he said. "Especially the time the vicars call the darkness."
Orah set her food aside and sat upright. "What did you find?"
"It was a time of cruelty and war as we were taught, but also a time of innovation and genius. Until the Temple of Light ended it. It had happened before. One period called the Dark Ages lasted over six hundred years. During that time, scholars spent their lives recording their knowledge for future generations while hidden away in places called monasteries.
"When the Temple came into power, the keepmasters believed they were witnessing a new Dark Age. They saw it as their duty to save their knowledge from being lost. But unlike the scholars who preserved the past with parchment and quill pens, they recorded their knowledge using-"
The lights flickered.
Orah had enough time to catch the panic flooding Thomas before the room went dark. She pressed her eyelids shut, counted to three and opened them, but still could see nothing. She slowed her breathing and her sense of hearing became acute.
It was then she noticed something missing-the hum that had been there since they passed through the golden doors. The heart of the keep had gone silent. In its place came a plaintive wail.
"It's the vicars," Thomas said. "They found us."
Orah jumped as a hand landed on her back, then relaxed when she recognized Nathaniel's touch. The two joined arms and shuffled forward, trying to find Thomas.
But before they could find him, a new voice sound, the soothing words of a female helper.
"We're sorry. A temporary disruption of power has occurred. Emergency lighting is being activated. Please stand by while repairs are being made."
The keep was healing itself. The dimmest of lights arose in the corners of the room, but to eyes straining in darkness, it was enough. Orah acknowledged Nathaniel with a nod. And ahead was Thomas, cowering on the floor a few paces away.
She extended a hand. He clutched it and scrambled to his feet, but quickly pulled away embarrassed. She let him collect himself before asking.
"Why were you so sure it was the vicars, Thomas?"
As the color returned to his face, his answer echoed through the room.
"Because their weapon is darkness."
Nathaniel came forward and led him back to the table. "It wasn't the vicars, Thomas. It's the age of the keep. Over time it'll fail more frequently. Another reason we can't stay."
Orah went to the entrance of the dining room and poked her head through, checking the corridor. Nothing. She held her breath and listened. Silence. She sniffed the keep air that usually shifted with a slightly cooling breeze. Stillness. Finally, convinced the situation was stable, she came back and urged Nathaniel to continue.
"You were telling us about the past."
"The darkness," he said. "What we learned in school was true. There'd always been wars, but that age was especially good at pitting people against each other."
"But why?" Orah said.
Nathaniel shrugged. "Because they were different. It's hard for us to understand, since we've known nothing but the Temple of Light."
"Were they so different they needed to kill each other?"
Nathaniel shook his head. "Not that I can tell. All had some form of prayer, but their gods had different names. They prayed at different times, had holy days in different seasons. Most promised an afterlife if you adhered to their faith.
"In any case, they used thinking machines to organize those of like mind and turn them against everyone else. And they fought with terrible weapons, conceived with the same knowledge that had been used for good."
Thomas's eyes narrowed. His pupils drifted to the corners.
"The people spoke different languages," he said, "and worshipped different gods. And they used these languages and these gods to separate the people from each other."
Orah held her breath as he spoke. When he was finished, she settled a hand on his shoulder as if testing to see if it was hot. "Was that what they told you in the teaching?"
"And now we find it's true," he scowled. "The Temple stopped it."
Orah turned to Nathaniel, desperate for a better answer. "Is that what the keepmasters said?"
Nathaniel's chin sagged. "The wars became so bad that elders came together and made a pact to remove the differences. But no one would accept the other's faith. So they formed a new one, taking the best of each and setting at its core a ban on violence. They met in a great conference to define the new religion. It would be easy to adopt, with few demands on people's lives. All the gods would be combined into a single concept called the light. Along with sins like murder or theft, anything before the new age would be considered evil.