Sense of Wonder: A Century of Science Fiction (614 page)

First published in
Asimov’s Science Fiction
, February 1997

1. Concerning an Arrangement of Lenses, So Fashioned as to Magnify the View of Divers Animalcules, Too Tiny to be Seen with the Unaided Eye:

His Holiness, Supreme Patriarch Septus XXIV, was an expert on chains.

By holy law, chains were required on every defendant brought to the Court Immaculate. However, my Lord the Jailer could exercise great latitude in choosing which chains went on which prisoners. A man possessed of a healthy fortune might buy his way into nothing more than a gold link necklace looped loosely around his throat; a beautiful woman might visit the Jailer privately in his chambers and emerge with thin and glittering silver bracelets—chains, yes, but as delicate as thread. If, on the other hand, the accused could offer neither riches nor position nor generous physical charms…well then, the prison had an ample supply of leg-irons, manacles, and other such fetters, designed to show these vermin the grim weight of God’s justice.

The man currently standing before Patriarch Septus occupied a seldom-seen middle ground in the quantity of restraints: two solid handcuffs joined by an iron chain of business-like gauge, strong enough that the prisoner had no chance of breaking free, but not so heavy as to strain the man’s shoulders to the point of pain. Clearly, my Lord the Jailer had decided on a cautious approach to this particular case; and Septus wondered what that meant. Perhaps the accused was nobody himself but had sufficient connections to rule out unwarranted indignities…a sculptor or musician, for example, who had won favor with a few great households in the city. The man certainly had an artistic look—fierce eyes in an impractical face, the sort of high-strung temperament who could express passion but not use it.

“Be it known to the court,” cried the First Attendant, “here stands one Anton Leeuwenhoek, a natural philosopher who is accused of heresy against God and Our Lady, the Unbetombed Virgin. Kneel, Supplicant, and pray with his Holiness, that this day shall see justice.”

Septus waited to see what Leeuwenhoek would do. When thieves and murderers came before the court, they dropped to their knees immediately, making a gaudy show of begging God to prove their innocence. A heretic, however, might spit defiance or hurl curses at the Patriarchal throne—not a good way to win mercy, but then, many heretics came to this chamber intent on their own martyrdom. Leeuwenhoek had the eyes of such a fanatic, but apparently not the convictions; without so much as a grimace, he got to his knees and bowed his head. The Patriarch quickly closed his own eyes and intoned the words he had recited five times previously this morning: “God grant me the wisdom to perceive the truth. Blessed Virgin, grant me the judgment to serve out mete justice. Let us all act this day to the greater glory of Thy Divine Union. Amen.”

Amens sounded around the chamber: attendants and advocates following the form. Septus glanced sideways toward Satan’s Watchboy, an ominous title for a cheerfully freckle-faced youth, the one person here excused from closing his eyes during the prayer. The Watchboy nodded twice, indicating that Leeuwenhoek had maintained a proper attitude of prayer and said Amen with everyone else. Good—this had just become a valid trial, and anything that happened from this point on had the strength of heavenly authority.

“My Lord Prosecutor,” Septus said, “state the charges.”

The prosecutor bowed as deeply as his well-rounded girth allowed, perspiration already beading on his powdered forehead. It was not a hot day, early spring, nothing more…but Prosecutor ben Jacob was a man famous for the quantity of his sweat, a trait that usually bothered his legal adversaries more than himself. Many an opposing counsel had been distracted by the copious flow streaming down ben Jacob’s face, thereby overlooking flaws in the prosecutor’s arguments. One could always find flaws in ben Jacob’s arguments, Septus knew—dear old Abraham was not overly clever. He was, however, honest, and could not conceive of winning personal advancement at the expense of those he prosecuted; therefore, the Patriarch had never dismissed the man from his position.

“Your Holiness,” ben Jacob said, “this case concerns claims against the Doctrine of the, uhh…Sleeping Snake.”

“Ah.” Septus glanced over at Leeuwenhoek. “My son, do you truly deny God’s doctrine?”

The man shrugged. “I have disproved the doctrine. Therefore, it can hardly be God’s.”

Several attendants gasped loudly. They perceived it as part of their job to show horror at every sacrilege. The same attendants tended to whisper and make jokes during the descriptions of true horrors: murders, rapes, maimings. “The spectators will remain silent,” Septus said wearily. He had recited those words five times this morning too. “My Lord Prosecutor, will you please read the text?”

“Ummm…the text, yes, the text.”

Septus maintained his composure while ben Jacob shuffled through papers and parchments looking for what he needed. It was, of course, standard procedure to read any passages of scripture that a heretic denied, just to make sure there was no misunderstanding. It was also standard procedure for ben Jacob to misplace his copy of the relevant text in a pile of other documents. With any other prosecutor, this might have been some kind of strategy; with ben Jacob, it was simply disorganization.

“Here we are, yes, here we are,” he said at last, producing a dog-eared page with a smear of grease clearly visible along one edge. “Gospel of Susannah, chapter twenty-three, first verse.” Ben Jacob paused while the two Verification Attendants found the passage in their own scripture books. They would follow silently as he read the text aloud, ready to catch any slips of the tongue that deviated from the holy word. When the attendants were ready, ben Jacob cleared his throat and read:

After the procession ended, they withdrew to a garden outside the walls of Jerusalem. And in the evening, it happened that Matthias beheld a serpent there, hidden by weeds. He therefore took up a stone that he might crush the beast; but Mary stayed his hand, saying, “There is no danger, for look, the beast sleeps.”

“Teacher,” Matthias answered, “it will not sleep forever.”

“Verily,” said Mary, “I promise it will sleep till dawn; and when the dawn comes, we will leave this place and all the serpents that it holds.”

Yet still, Matthias kept hold of the stone and gazed upon the serpent with fear.

“O ye of little faith,” said Mary to Matthias, “why do you concern yourself with the sleeping creature before you, when you are blind to the serpents in your own heart? For I tell you, each drop of your blood courses with a legion of serpents, and so it is for every Child of Dust. You are all poisoned with black venoms, poisoned unto death. But if you believe in me, I will sing those serpents to sleep; then will they slumber in peace until you leave this flesh behind, entering into the dawn of God’s new day.”

Ben Jacob lowered his page and looked to the Verifiers for confirmation. The Patriarch turned in their direction too, but he didn’t need their nods to tell him the scripture had been read correctly. Septus knew the passage by heart; it was one of the fundamental texts of Mother Church, the Virgin’s promise of salvation. It was also one of the most popular texts for heretics to challenge. The presumption of original sin, of damnation being inherent in human flesh…that was anathema to many a fiery young soul.
What kind of God
, they asked,
would damn an infant to hell merely for being born?
It was a good question, its answer still the subject of much subtle debate; but the Virgin’s words were unequivocal, whether or not theologians had reasoned out all the implications.

“Anton Leeuwenhoek,” Septus said, “you have heard the verified word of scripture. Do you deny its truth?”

Leeuwenhoek stared directly back. “I must,” he answered. “I have examined human blood in meticulous detail. It contains no serpents.”

The toadies in the courtroom had their mouths open, ready to gasp again at sacrilege; but even they could hear the man was not speaking in deliberate blasphemy. He seemed to be stating…a fact.

How odd.

Septus straightened slightly in the Patriarchal throne. This had the prospect of more interest than the usual heresy trial. “You understand,” he said to Leeuwenhoek, “this passage is about original sin. The Blessed Virgin states that all human beings are poisoned with sin and can only be redeemed through her.”

“On the contrary, Your Holiness.” Leeuwenhoek’s voice was sharp. “The passage states there are snakes in human blood. I know there are not.”

“The snakes are merely…” Septus stopped himself in time. He had been on the verge of saying the snakes were merely a metaphor; but this was a public trial, and any pronouncements he made would have the force of law. To declare that any part of scripture was not the literal truth…no Patriarch had ever done so in open forum, and Septus did not intend to be the first.

“Let us be clear on this point,” Septus said to Leeuwenhoek. “Do you deny the Doctrine of Original Sin?”

“No—I could never make heads or tails of theology. What I understand is blood; and there are no snakes in it.”

One of the toadies ventured a small gasp of horror, but even a deaf man could have told the sound was forced.

Prosecutor ben Jacob, trying to be helpful, said, “You must appreciate the snakes would be very, very small.”

“That’s just it,” Leeuwenhoek answered with sudden enthusiasm. “I have created a device which makes it possible to view tiny things as if they were much larger.” He turned quickly toward Septus. “Your Holiness is familiar with the telescope? The device for viewing objects at long distances?”

The Patriarch nodded in spite of himself.

“My device,” Leeuwenhoek said, “functions on a similar principle—an arrangement of lenses which amplify one’s vision to reveal things too small to see with the naked eye. I have examined blood in every particular; and while it contains numerous minute animalcules I cannot identify, I swear to the court there are no snakes. Sleeping or otherwise.”

“Mm.” Septus took a moment to fold his hands on the bench in front of him. When he spoke, he did not meet the prisoner’s eyes. “It is well-known that snakes are adept at hiding, are they not? Surely it is possible a snake could be concealed behind…behind these other minute animalcules you mention.”

“A legion of serpents,” Leeuwenhoek said stubbornly. “That’s what the text said. A legion of serpents in every drop of blood. Surely they couldn’t
all
find a place to hide; and I have spent hundreds of hours searching, Your Holiness. Days and weeks and months.”

“Mm.”

Troublesome to admit, Septus didn’t doubt the man. The Patriarch had scanned the skies with an excellent telescope, and had seen a universe of unexpected wonders—mountains on the moon, hair on the sun, rings around the planet Cronus. He could well believe Leeuwenhoek’s magnifier would reveal similar surprises…even if it didn’t show serpents in the bloodstream. The serpents were merely a parable anyway; who could doubt it? Blessed Mary often spoke in poetic language that every educated person recognized as symbolic rather than factual.

Unfortunately, the church was not composed of educated persons. No matter how sophisticated the clergy might be, parishioners came from humbler stock. Snakes in the blood? If that’s what Mary said, it must be true; and heaven help a Patriarch who took a less dogmatic stance. The bedrock of the church was Authority: ecclesiastic authority, scriptural authority. If Septus publicly allowed that some doctrines could be interpreted as mere symbolism—that a fundamental teaching was metaphor, not literal fact—well, all it took was a single hole in a wineskin for everything to leak out.

On the other hand, truth was truth. If there were no snakes, there were no snakes. God made the world and all the people in it; if the Creator chose to fashion human lifeblood a certain way, it was the duty of Mother Church to accept and praise Him for it. Clinging to a lie in order to preserve one’s authority was worse than mere cowardice; it was the most damning blasphemy.

Septus looked at Leeuwenhoek, standing handcuffed in the dock. A living man with a living soul; and with one word, Septus could have him executed as a purveyor of falsehood.

But where did the falsehood truly lie?

“This case cannot be decided today,” Septus announced. “Mother Church will investigate the claims of the accused to the fullest extent of her strength. We will build magnifier devices of our own, properly blessed to protect against Satan’s interference.” Septus fought back a smile at that; there were still some stuffy inquisitors who believed the devil distorted what one saw through any lens. “We shall see what is there and what is not.”

Attendants nodded in agreement around the courtroom, just as they would nod if the sentence had been immediate acquittal or death. But ben Jacob said, “Your Holiness— perhaps it would be best if the court were to…to issue instructions that no other person build a magnification device until the church has ruled in this matter.”

“On the contrary,” Septus replied. “I think the church should make magnifiers available to all persons who ask. Let them see for themselves.”

The Patriarch smiled, wondering if ben Jacob understood. A decree suppressing magnifiers would simply encourage dissidents to build them in secret; on the other hand, providing free access to such devices would bring the curious
into
the church, not drive them away. Anyway, the question would only interest the leisured class, those with time and energy to wonder about esoteric issues. The great bulk of the laity, farmers and miners and ostlers, would never hear of the offer. Even if they did, they would hardly care. Minute animalcules might be amusing curiosities, but they had nothing to do with a peasant’s life.