‘Unfortunately for us, they needed exotic matter to fuel them and in their galaxy it was in short supply. So they looked at ours, and they discovered us.’
The lecturer looked around the room as he spoke. He knew the rumours. The involvement of souls had been the source of much speculation, but this was the first time the delegation would learn of the scale and significance of everything.
‘More precisely, they found our souls: that mystical part of us that our ancestors had believed in for centuries, but which our science could not define or prove. They were a relic of our past, the subject of children’s fantasies, and fodder for Hollywood—or so we thought.
‘We may forgive ourselves for this. Let’s face it, our investment in science had proven so much more profitable than our investment in faith.
‘In addition, our understanding of the universe had led us to believe that souls could not exist, as nothing could live forever. We became convinced that the laws of the universe forbid it. Everything decays. Everything dies. Even great minds told us this.
‘Yet our logic was flawed. Our logic deceived us.
‘It is clear the Collectors do not think like us. They had learned several millennia ago that the laws of the universe were in a state of constant development: that just as the universe is expanding, so too are it’s laws.
‘We know now that they were right.
‘Before there was life, there was nothing to suggest there could be life. Then life evolved. When microorganisms then ruled the planet, there was no hint of its future consciousness. Nevertheless, life developed and gained consciousness: a consciousness that was in keeping with a universe that was still in development.
‘It was a development we should have noted, but did not.
‘The Collectors had, though.
‘They noted that in our universe, human consciousness had evolved beyond their own: it had evolved into a soul, free to escape its physical origins. Additionally, once released from the body, and all of its confining dimensions, it acquired an infinite existence.
‘From their galaxy, they could see this. From within ours, we could not.
‘And so began the harvests.
‘They had developed what we call a Morris-Thorne wormhole, the type that requires exotic matter: the same matter our souls absorb effortlessly from the space around them in order to sustain themselves. So, they came unseen into our galaxy to take our souls back to theirs, and there they put them to work. That was a long time ago. Even before Homer’s time.
‘What else do we know?
‘Well, we think we know two other things: that the Collectors also trade human souls as companions, and that some souls are too pure, and so are too powerful, to be contained.
‘If this is true, then there is a great irony here. Although the jury is still out on what makes a soul pure or impure, those of you with an in-depth understanding of our social history will know that, over the past 300 years, we have gradually abandoned our religious beliefs and set a greater store in science. Well, that may have been a mistake. It appears that, for a longer period of human history, our ancient and childish beliefs may have given us a modicum of protection from the Collectors. Those of us who had faith, truly believed, and led “pure” lives were less containable than those who tipped our hats to priests but never attended church services.’
Feldman then noticed Flowers gesturing at him. He was telling him to stick to the script.
‘And, um, well, we also believe we have been harvested for more than 30 centuries, but for how many centuries, precisely, we cannot be sure. Should we include the Pharaohs in the list of lost souls? Did Homer go to Heaven, or is he still serving the Collectors, and where does he do that?
‘Which begs the question: just how many wormholes are there? And how many of us are in a constant state of, well, purgatory?’
Feldman paused to sip some water from a small bottle tucked away under the lectern. Scat didn’t move a muscle. Nor did anyone else. This was, well, not quite what they were expecting. The junket was beginning to look a lot more involved than they had assumed. For days, Scat and Goosen had understood souls were involved, but like a bent penny, the thought had stopped there, waiting for a shove. But the penny was dropping now. We all have a soul? Really?
‘So, we now know, for certain, that both you and I have a soul. We know there is a hereafter. This is no longer an article of faith. It is a scientific fact.’
He then ignored his notes for a second time and appeared to go off script again. Flowers just shook his head.
‘But, at a time when we should be celebrating our greatest ever discovery, we are instead in mourning. Sadly, as our population has expanded and our belief in God, or at least in an afterlife, has withered, more and more souls have been available for harvesting. If what the Collectors says is true, it would seem that way too many of us have been less than pure in recent years.’
He started reading from his notes again.
‘Moreover, it would appear that the laws of supply and demand work equally well in both our galaxies. As souls became easier to collect, so more and more Collectors could afford the intellectual stimulation that soul companions provide. Apparently, we’re real popular with their children.
‘If this were a regular diplomatic mission, we would be familiar with the context in which the negotiations are to take place. We would have grasped our opponents’ points of view and have made steps to identify their end game. We would have carefully calculated where we could accommodate their needs. All the while, we would be making sure that we could protect and advance our own. However, you’d be right to assume that we’ll not be talking about ceding land or commodities for peace with a familiar adversary, or negotiating a dual taxation agreement with a trading partner.
‘The stakes in this case are so very, very much higher. Nonetheless, here we are, about to negotiate soul quotas with the Collectors while our leaders decide what can be done to end this human nightmare in our lifetime; at a time when we’re only just recovering from a major conflict, and the Collector species appears so powerful and unreachable.
‘In reality, we must also recognise that a perfect outcome for all may not be achievable. In such circumstances, war is inevitable.
‘So, it’ll be your job to learn more about them: to understand their culture, appreciate their history, and determine their longer-term motives. You have 18 months to prepare your minds for this.
‘Your training over that time will not be easy, but never has the outcome of diplomacy been so crucial or relevant to everyone as it is today. This is no ordinary diplomatic and trade delegation, and you no longer represent a country or a people. You represent the whole human race, and you represent all of our souls: those who have gone before, and those who have yet to be.
‘That’s many more billions than exist today.
‘So allow me to sum up the responsibility the human race is bestowing on you:
‘In your hands you hold the futures of the cultural and historical icons of the past three millennia at least: from Aristotle and Caesar, Churchill and Ghandi, to Florence Nightingale and Mother Theresa, Mozart and John Lennon, and the countless billions of less celebrated souls like your grandparents, uncles, brothers, mothers and children.
‘So, I urge you all to think, not only of yourselves or even of your own souls, but of everyone, every soul, and to give yourselves tirelessly and unselfishly to the most important project ever undertaken by man—the freedom of souls.
‘Thank you.
‘I will now hand you over to Ambassador Thyme who will walk you through the details of the Collector’s demands.’
There was no applause.
A stunned and confused Scat sat back in his seat, raised his eyes to the ceiling and wondered what the hell he had let himself in for, this time. When Mary had said they wanted to return with their souls, he had thought she meant to return with their souls; a few perhaps, maybe even more than a few—not to rescue billions of them.
‘Oh, crap!’ he mouthed to himself. He leaned forward, looking for an exit, then realised he was trapped in the middle of the row. Instead, he caught sight of Goosen, staring back at him, mouthing bad words.
‘At last! At long farking last we’re getting somewhere,’ said a jubilant Pierce. ‘Are you ready for this, Scat? …Scat?’
Thank you for reading this story. The Scat’s Universe story continues with Army of Souls. While Scat makes sense of his new mission, perhaps you can lend him some support.
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Other Stories by Jim Graham
Army of Souls
Scat’s Universe Series Book #2
“If flesh came into being because of the spirit, it is a wonder. But if spirit came into being because of the body, it is a wonder of wonders.”
Ancient text discovered near Nag Hammadi, Egypt, December 1945.
Believed to be the Gospel According to Thomas 24:1
Man’s soul is little more than collateral damage in a struggle between our daemons and demons. As Man succumbs to the soul-harvesting Haraan and the seven Vices pursue the four Virtues in a brutal and one-sided conflict, Scat must travel the Other-Worlds to free our souls from Purgatory.
But Man is allied against him. The Soul Army is on the rampage. And the Demon Master is a single victory from reigning supreme.
Get your copy now
Birdie Down
Rebellion Series
Book #1
An episode from the Outer-Rim rebellion
(Fits right in at around chapter 100 of Scat)
The Outer-Rim rebellion stumbles into its second day and it’s headed in the wrong direction.
Will it survive a third?
The third generation residents of the resource-rich New Worlds are seeking to throw off the yoke of corporate rule. Ex-Resource War veteran, Sebastian Scatkiewicz and his colleague, Andrew ‘Birdie’ Goosen, have dared to take on the biggest company of them all. Hot from attacking the Lynthax Corporation head offices on Trevon and then on G-eo they’re planning to attack a third.
But there’s friction in the rebel camp. Scat’s ignoring the advice of colleagues. His personal beef with Jack Petroff, Lynthax’s head of security, is affecting his judgement. His friends and political masters doubt his motives. And the loyalty of the newest recruits is far from certain...
Episodes from the Outer-Rim rebellion
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About the Author
Jim was born in Bushey, Middlesex, England and grew up in Hatfield, Hertfordshire where he spent his early years mostly covered in mud and grazes, either stirring up the neighbourhood wasp nests, or being gated to the garden where he would forage for the earwigs and spiders he needed to make snacks for his baby brother.
He passed selection for the 21st Special Air Service Regiment at age 17 and was later commissioned as a Second Lieutenant into the Queen’s Regiment with which he served for several years in Northern Ireland.
Since leaving the army in 1986, he has lived and worked in Malaysia, South Africa, Belgium, Singapore and Hong Kong.
He is married and has two children.
Scat is Jim’s first novel.
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