God Is Dead
A science fiction short story about greed, arrogance, and religion
Unfortunately, we found the body.
After years of service to the United Empire of Man, I was chosen for the Plutus 11 mission: humanity’s prideful attempt to scour the stars for wealth and capital. We named it after a god, though we never expected to find one. But we did.
I first thought it was a meteor that the scanners simply missed. But, even as it orbited the dying star, the golden armor of “The Celestial Corpse” shone brighter than the purest flame I ever gazed upon. No blood ran in its empty veins, yet it was more divine than the faster-than-light Hyperion drive that carried this space shuttle through space, time, reality, and unreality to this moment. I could only cry as its overwhelming beauty surrounded me. How blessed was I, Amos Solaris, to be the one to discover the blinding truth of the cosmos?
I returned to Settlement 29 as a hero, saint, and reverend. Across the Empire, trillions sang in prayer to Messiah Solaris, savior of mankind. Churches were built in my name, entire religions toppled overnight. The Emperor himself personally invited me to a dinner in his lunar mansion. Never before had I seen so much freshly slaughtered meat from real animals. Thus, I, the holiest man of his time, indulged in voracious gluttony that night and did so for many more. But, like all peasants, only one word echoes in their empty heads: more.
News of a god alone was not enough to placate the appeals of the desolate poor. No, belief could only be built by seeing. Seeing an opportunity, those with Hyperion drive ships began to offer tours of the dead god. Tickets were costly, many times more than some people’s yearly salaries, but the revelations one would have upon bathing in its eternal glory were priceless. Or so I promised.
Soon, forgoing wealth was not enough to satiate the ever-growing hunger of the masses. The sacrifice of morals, ethics, and souls was the only cure for their depraved needs. Like canines, they ripped flesh from their false idol, devouring it to the bone. Donning a corpse’s skin like the crown atop a king, they plunged spears into flesh, shot bullets into brains, and breathed poison into lungs. This was their salvation, the purging of sin through the purging of life. To them, the truest form was the one that best resembled their gods: one of death. If belief is the food of deities, what fuels a lifeless one? I soon found out. It was madness.
Madness is ever corrupting. Madness of belief, of devotion, and knowledge. This insanity defiles even those who disavow it. The Empire’s scholars' dogged pursuit of scientific knowledge may have overruled any religious fervor they could ever possess, but only replaced it with obsession. They gathered samples of bone, brain tissue, and more, secretly breaking them down to analyze for study. But it was metal, not flesh, that intrigued the Empire most. The golden armor adorning the hollow shell of skin seemed impenetrable to all forms of weaponry: the perfect defense. Furthermore, when the metal particles were suspended in concentrated beams of light, the intensity increased 100-fold. This made a standard laser pistol shoot with the power of a tank and orbital cannons capable of destroying entire solar systems. No enemy of the Empire was safe, and a war of mania began.
We exterminated entire civilizations that day. It was methodical and cruelly efficient. All systems that stepped one foot out of line were vaporized. Rebellion upon rebellion was atomized by the very weapons they worshiped. Of course, they never knew this. Our technological advancements were attributed to the discovery of Aurelium, a fictional element created by the Empire’s propaganda machine. While this fooled our nation’s people, other civilizations put two and two together and knew better. But what good did knowing the truth serve them as their armadas were vaporized? We had an iron grip on all material that came from the dead god; not even the tiniest fragment could be stolen. Our foes could only watch as they were obliterated, having no chance for retaliation.
For some time, I was content with the state of affairs. As long as I ate well and lived a life of luxury, it did not matter to me if some backwater culture was getting annihilated. I mean, in a galaxy with trillions in it, you realistically could only focus on yourself. Sure, it was a cruel mindset to live by, but it was the mindset that everyone followed. That was until the nightmares came. I heard screams of terror as golden rays melted flesh, saw executions as insurgents were hanged by the hundred, and felt the combined suffering of billions. Even as I sat across the Emperor, now his most trusted aide, I festered in my guilt. Surrounded by food, women, and luxuries most had never had, I, Messiah Solaris, questioned if I deserved such a title. I was not the savior of mankind but the harbinger of death, destruction, and the end. I sought solace in my grief but found none. The Emperor and his officers remained steadfast in their murderous ambitions, intent on forcing the galaxy to its knees. It all came to a head when I had my final vision, the ultimate revelation.
I found myself floating in space, gazing into an endless black nothingness. I was naked, and even though I should have frozen or suffocated instantly, my body was perfectly fine. Bewildered by my condition, I drifted continually until a voice shattered the silence: “AMOS SOLARIS.” Stunned, I turned around and saw it: The Celestial Corpse. Except, it was no longer a corpse, the same way I was no longer just a man. Its flesh had healed, its armor repaired, and its eyes blazed with such an unsettling rage I struggled to hold my gaze. Even more frightening was the colossal golden sword it wielded. The blade stretched many cities long, burning with such intense heat that the saliva in my mouth boiled, my breath turning to steam even in the cold of space. I could not comprehend a single thought in its presence, my brain searing like a cracked egg on a pan. Only after what felt like an eternity, did my mind finally grasp a single coherent thought that permitted me to speak.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I AM THAT WHICH WAS DESECRATED, THE FLAMING TRUTH OF THE COSMOS. YOU NAMED ME YOUR TRIUMPH, TURNED MY DEATH INTO A SPECTACLE, TWISTED SILENCE INTO CHAOS, AND FORGED MY REMAINS INTO WEAPONS. YOU HAVE DEFILED THAT WHICH IS HOLY AMOS SOLARIS AND YOUR PEOPLE SHALL PAY FOR YOUR FOOLISHNESS.”
I quaked, my head ringing with the force of its words. Its voice was not sound, but the thunder that came with lightning, the eruption of the greatest volcanoes. I was a moon amongst stars, my very being dwarfed by the power of its existence. Still captivated by its overwhelming strength, I did nothing as it brought down its burning sword, turning my skin to ash and my blood to vapor. In that infinitesimal moment between the sword’s descent and my death, time seemed to slow, each second dragging as I writhed within a maelstrom of unbearable heat and suffering. Pain pulsed throughout my body, and my nerves shrieked in agony, begging for an end. Every sound became a deafening roar as the relentless growl of the inferno drowned out my screams. This was true power, that which only belongs to Gods. The strength the empire could only dream of wielding.
The moment I escaped the vision, I rushed to the nearest ship and flew directly to The Celestial Corpse. Once I arrived, I personally donned a space suit to take fresh samples of the god’s flesh. Upon testing them, my greatest fears were confirmed. Where before its cells were necrotic, now its muscle pulsed with life. In humanity’s blind deification of the corpse, we had neglected to question why it was dead. We sang prayers to it, sacrificed ourselves in its name, and waged wars over its remains, not once considering the possibility that it was killed for a reason. Our worship only gave it power, the fuel it needed to regenerate, and my stupidity had caused it all. I shuddered to think what would happen if it were fully reborn. It could cut entire galaxies like paper, turn civilizations to glass in a day, and make our most formidable weapons look like sticks in comparison. I had uncovered the greatest evil and allowed the entire cosmos to nourish it back, only for it to slaughter us like lambs.
I paved the way for humanity’s annihilation. It seemed appropriate that I was the one to save it. I demanded an audience with the Emperor immediately to discuss my findings. Unfortunately, in the Emperor’s palace, I found only stubbornness and greed:
“Speak, Amos. I hear you have heavy news to bring.”
“Your Imperial Majesty, we must stop mining and worshiping The Celestial Corpse. The Empire’s activities have resurrected it, and it threatens to bring divine punishment upon us all. I have felt its power firsthand; our fleets and armadas stand no chance against it if it is fully reawakened.”
“How interesting. I shall take your findings into consideration.”
“Sire, what do you mean?”
“Well, I believe what you said about it regenerating, don’t get me wrong. Tests conducted by my scholars have corroborated your findings. But, you have given me no evidence for this beast’s intent to destroy us.”
“Sire, it came to me in a vision–”
“A vision! Oh, Amos, just because people worship you doesn’t mean you’re some holy prophet who can see the future. The fame has gotten to your head. Until you can prove your ‘visions’, the Empire will double its mining operations. We will extract as much as possible from the deity before it reawakens.”
“You can’t do that. The Celestial Corpse will kill us all!”
“SILENCE! You demand nothing of the Emperor, Amos. Get out of my sight.” I struggled as the imperial guard pulled my kicking body away from the palace. They threw me on the cheapest ship back to the very slums I was born in. In one instant, the Emperor, so blinded by his greed and lust for power, stripped away my life of luxury to silence his critics. However, my face was still recognized by everyone in the galaxy, so I took to the capital city square. I gave sermons, published manifestos, and held public forums. I did everything I could to warn the masses of the grave danger they were in.
Even in the face of the apocalypse, the Emperor spent more money trying to suppress me than prevent armageddon. The Empire’s propaganda machine, abusing its control over the media, painted me as a messiah gone mad. Soon, I was no longer a reverend but ridiculed, the village lunatic, and I could barely look out my window without getting insulted. As I rotted in bed, living in the shadow of the glory I once knew, I wondered why the Emperor didn’t just execute me. I guess, in death, I would’ve been a martyr, and my life would’ve amounted to something. By keeping me alive, the Emperor destroyed every last bit of my legacy until there was nothing left to kill.
The apocalypse didn’t happen in a day. As The Celestial Corpse revived itself, strange energy periodically radiated from it. This caused gravitational anomalies to appear randomly in space as ships crashed into each other. Stars flickered and imploded, plunging entire galaxies into darkness. Solar flares lashed out, sending planets back to the dark ages. Even on the capital planet, Aurelia, earthquakes ravaged towns and colossal tsunamis drowned millions. Ominous visions of the dead deity’s wrath ravaged the universe faster than the unexplainable famines and diseases. Cults appeared overnight, sacrificing the innocent in the most dreadful and gruesome manner. They flayed flesh, drank blood, and carved bone in a fruitless attempt to appease the god’s anger. Such were the extremes to which the masses went when faced with an extinction they could neither comprehend nor fight.
Even the obstinate Emperor knew that the end was nigh. But, instead of protecting his people or consolidating his forces to battle what was to come, he chose to be possessed by greed. He saw The Celestial Corpse not as the universe’s reaper but as the ultimate path to heavenly power. His plan, or really the imperial scientists’ plan, was to extract and transfer the god’s energy to himself. In this way, he would eliminate the only threat to his empire and eternally solidify his authority. Some people applauded his ingenuity. I, however, was mortified by his impudence. He planned to rid the universe of a primordial evil only to replace it with his tyrannical rule. It was an affront to humanity, one which I could not idly sit by and let happen.
Using my previously acquired knowledge of the Emperor’s palace, I attempted to infiltrate and kill him. Perhaps I was a bit too ambitious, as I was quickly apprehended by his royal guard. He ordered my execution, but not before parading me around the capital city.
“The messiah turned heretic!”
“Traitor!”
“Nonbeliever!”
The emperor wanted to break me one last time before I died. And he did. As I stood at the gallows, the crowds that once applauded me laughed at my predicament. As I felt the executioner tie the noose around my neck, I wondered how it could have ended this way. How could I, Amos Solaris, amount to nothing?
“YOU CAN NOT DIE JUST YET, FOOL”
I knew not where the voice came from. It didn’t matter, though, as the next second the entire planet shook. I watched helplessly as a brilliant light appeared in the stars and a flaming sword smashed into the planet. Half the population was instantly vaporized by heat, the other half choking on the gray sky of ash. The oceans evaporated instantly, and cities were burned to dust. After the smoke cleared, I found myself surrounded by bodies, the lone survivor. Part of me hoped I had simply gotten lucky, but I knew better. This was The Celestial Corpse’s punishment for my sins. It cursed me with immortality and forced me to sit back and watch as the god decimated the universe, more helpless than a newborn in its mother’s arms.
I walked for weeks, months, perhaps years on that desolate world. I saw each distant star fade as the god blew out every light in the universe until it was the only one remaining. Each planet consumed until there was nothing left to eat. It was a fire left to fester in an endless forest. It would only stop once every leaf was gone.
As I contemplated my existence trapped in this perpetual prison, I felt hopeless. I was forced to watch the universe die and could do nothing to stop it.
“FOOL”
That, I was. But even a fool will eventually see the truth. And I did. I always assumed humanity as a whole caused the god to be reborn. It was the power of their belief that fueled it. But it was always mine. It was my devotion and fear of it. My reverence for it. While the masses tore at its flesh and stole its armor to forge weapons, only I recognized it as divine. I was the zealot, the god’s greatest protector. It was my belief and my belief alone that fueled it. It hadn’t saved me to make me suffer. No, it saved me to save itself.
I could not kill myself; the god made sure of that. But my body didn’t matter. I realized that as long as I stopped thinking and annihilated the very concept of belief within myself, then I could stop its interstellar rampage. As if I couldn’t even believe in the god, then it would die. Thus, I closed my eyes and sat atop the mountain of bodies to meditate. I lost count of how many days passed and soon forgot how to count entirely as I stripped away every layer of cognition. I eradicated language, wiped my memories, and destroyed my concept of self until my head was filled with such overwhelming nothingness that it induced catatonia. In that void, the god died. Starved of belief, it withered away—its cells no longer thrived on my reverence, its immense cosmic rage no longer fueled by my awe. Though my eyes no longer recognized sight, had they seen, they would have witnessed the fading of that abominable golden light. God was a hollow husk once more.
Eventually, when civilization recovered and returned to the planet I lay on, my body was just another cadaver that formed the bedrock of the cities they built. I was forgotten, my name lost to time. They lived in the peace that my sacrifice had secured, oblivious to the foundation upon which their existence was built. Had I retained my mind, perhaps I would have found my fate ironic. I had become humanity’s savior, but my legacy was more extinct than the Empire itself. And so my warning was lost to time. As millennia passed, they too discovered the Celestial Corpse. As their hands reached for the divine, I could do nothing but remain silent, a forgotten witness to the catastrophic cycle of worship and obliteration they unknowingly embraced once again.