Far-Seer

“All right, then. The planets and the sun are the same way. Those planets that are closer to the sun than we are will sometimes appear less than completely illuminated—will go through phases. Those farther away will always seem fully lit.”

“So you’re saying we’re partway out from the sun. Some planets are closer to the sun than we; others, farther away.”

“That’s right!”

“I suppose that might make sense,” said the prince. “So you hold that the world—our world—is like a planet, neither nearest to nor farthest from the sun.”

“I’m afraid it’s more complex than that.” Afsan took a deep breath. “The Face of God is a planet.”

“What?”

“You heard me. The Face of God is a planet.”

“It can’t be a planet. You said planets either are fully illuminated or go through phases. The Face of God does both.”

“That’s right. When it’s nearer to the sun than we are, it goes through phases. When it’s farther away, we see it as full.”

“Well, then, what are we? What is our world?”

“A moon.”

“A moon?!”

“That’s right. Our home moves around the Face of God, and the Face of God moves around the sun.”

“That’s ridiculous. Land floats down the River.”

“Land does not. The River is just a vast shoreless lake covering the entire surface of the ball-shaped world we live on.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Really. Our home is a moon, revolving around the Face of God. Indeed, when we are between the sun and the Face, you can see the shadow we cast moving as a small black circle across the Face.”

“You mean God eyes? Those dots are shadows?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve charted them quite precisely. I can even tell you which shadow is cast by which moon, including which one is cast by us.”

Dybo shook his head. “Incredible. Well, you can show me what you mean when we turn around and head back.”

“We are not going to turn around. We’re going to continue on to the east until we reach Land again.”

“You’re not yanking my tail, are you?”

“No.”

Dybo lifted his muzzle from the deck, brought in a hand to scratch his dewlap. “Well, then, what moves around us?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” said Dybo, “that the planets move around the sun, and the moons move around the planets, and we’re on a moon. What moves around us?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? You mean we’re at the end of the chain? The bottom? Like plants in the food cycle?”

“Umm, yes, I guess you could put it that way.”

“Like plants? That’s not an appealing thought.”

Afsan had never worried about how appealing any given idea was, only about how accurate it might be. He was surprised to hear Dybo concerned about the aesthetics of this notion. “But it’s the truth,” is all Afsan said.

Dybo shook his head. “It can’t be true. I mean, the Face of God is only visible if you travel way upriver. And it hangs there, motionless in the sky. It’s not moving at all.”

“It only appears to not be moving. And as for the Face only being visible after a long voyage by boat, our world is a great ball, and Land happens to be on the side of it that faces away from the Face of God.”

Dybo’s teeth clicked in derision. “Remarkable coincidence, that: Land happening to be on the side that never faces the Face of God.”

“Not really. Our world is lopsided, because of Land—it’s heavier on one side because of the huge mass we live on. Obviously if something is lopsided like that, there are only two positions it can take that are stable—with the heavier part facing directly toward the object it’s revolving around, or with the heavier part facing directly away. Anything else would cause a wobble.”

“Really?”

“Sure. You can see that for yourself. Get a rock ground into a torus shape—”

“With a hole in the middle, you mean? Like a bead?”

“Yes, but much bigger. More like a guvdok stone. Tie a length of twine through the hole, and then put a lump of clay on one side of the outer edge of the disk. Spin the whole thing around by swinging the twine over your head. You’ll see that the clay lump orients itself either pointing directly toward or away from you.”

“What happens if the string breaks?”

“Eh?”

“What happens if the string breaks?”

“Well,” said Afsan, “I imagine the rock goes flying off and—”

“—and hits someone in the head. Which is what I think must have happened to you.”

Afsan did not deign to click his teeth.

“But,” continued Dybo, “why then does the Face of God hang steadily in the sky?”

“The rate at which we revolve around the Face is the same as the rate at which we rotate around our own axis.”

“We rotate?”

“Of course. That’s what makes the stars appear to spin through the course of a night.”

“And you’re saying the two rates—rotation and revolution—match.”

“Precisely.”

“That sounds like another remarkable coincidence.”