Celestina of the Solar Eclipse

There was nobody requesting to join the Solar Expedition.

The Directorate had spent six months advertising it in every city, village, temple, university and factory on Earth. Posters showed what looked like a black sun surrounded by a white halo-like corona, with a single line beneath it: “WE ARE GOING TO FIND OUT WHAT IS THERE.”

Nobody came.

People had more immediate concerns.

The temperature had fallen again. Crops were failing in the northern hemisphere and entire coastlines were becoming inaccessible because of the advancing ice.

In Argentina, where winters had been mild enough before that you could farm all year around, rivers froze from bank to bank.

Antinov, the scientist, knew this because the river beside his farm had frozen too.

He was standing beneath the grey sky watering his watermelons.

The watermelons had survived the previous winter somehow. Antinov had built a heated glass house over them then reinforced it metal sheets when the first negative twenty degrees nights arrived. The plants which grew were ugly, but alive.

On the way back home from watering his watermelons, Antinov met his neighbour. An artist.

“You know that it’s pointless, right?” The artist asked.

“What is?”

“Everything probably is, I was just talking about you watering those watermelons.” After a pause, the artist continued. “People are going to the Sun.”

“People are always going somewhere,” Antinov replied. “If we weren’t so old then it would have been us.”

The two parted ways and went on their way to their destinations as a gusty wind passed by silencing their good byes.

Antinov’s daughter, Celestina was standing behind him. She had been silent for a long time waiting for the right moment to speak.

“I have decided to go.”

Antinov turned.

“Where?”

“You know where.”

“The expedition.”

He stared at her.

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“Because there is no one else going.”

“I see.”

“You won’t try to stop me?”

“Would you stop if I did?”

“No.”

“That’s good.”

“You taught me that truth mattered more than fear.”

“I taught you to grow watermelons.”

“You taught me both.”

Antinov smiled. Celestia blushed slightly and looked towards the river. Its water was frozen solid, and a few centimetres of snow had gathered on the sloped roof of the Temple of Helia across the river.

As they spoke the sky began to darken rapidly but neither seemed alarmed at the now familiar sight.

The Six Member Central Committee of the Directorate had unilaterally decreed that the expedition would proceed within 6 months. This left scientists who had discovered a phenomenon inside the Sun which could not be explained by any existing model scrambling to organise the expedition, or lose their jobs. During each solar eclipse an object appeared within the corona. It was not visible in ordinary photographs.

The Directorate called it the Solar Eclipse Anomaly but that was nothing more than a name to create a false sense of control and put the public at ease. The Church of Helia, which had been in ascendancy since the phenomenon first occurred twenty years ago called it a door, an entrance to heaven.

The night before her departure, she went to the Temple of Helia across the river, to let the priestess know she was going to knock on heaven’s door.

The young priestess who was about the same as Celestina’s age, was waiting beneath a painting. The picture showed a woman with golden wings sitting on a marble throne with a crown adorning her head, and a phoenix perched on her shoulder.

It was a picture of Helia, the all powerful goddess which the Church worshiped, who would lead to the universe’s rebirth.

“You really are going,” the priestess said.

“Yes.”

The priestess held her hands together in prayer, closed her eyes. Celestina was standing behind the priestess who was turned in prayer towards the painting.

“And what do you think it will give you?”

“The truth.”

The priestess laughed quietly as she turned.

“You are young.”

“So are you. That doesn’t make us wrong.”

“How is it going to help me in the life?”

“It is going to lead you to believe in true things.”

“People are dying and suffering. How will this help them?”

“By understanding the truth we will be able to help more people.”

“Unfortunately this is not going to help me to fight poverty so I don’t care.”

“Okay you don’t care about truth. That’s fine. You are welcome to not care about truth.”

“It’s not going to help me take care of the elderly, of the people of the earth. It’s not going to help me to feed the poor, to take care of the animals. ”

“You are welcome to not care about truth. Fine. But some of us care about truth.”

“I care about truth.”

“No you don’t. You absolutely don’t. You categorically don’t care about truth. That’s like stolen valour for you to say you care about truth.”

“How is that going to help a starving child?”

“The advancement of science is good holistically. They used to think that these diseases were divine punishments.”

The young priestess shrugged.

“People still die of diseases. You can’t escape that. That is the truth. Only through death may immortality be granted. The true Church of Helia has already found the the truth and answer you are seeking for. There is no mystery. Therefore go, and find the truth inside the sun. I will pray that Helia will forgive your transgression and let you through her door.”

Celestina walked out of the church.

“”Farewell, my old friend.””

Six months passed.

The door opened.

Beyond it was not the Sun.

There was a white room.

There was a chair.

There was an old bird.

And there was God.

God did not look like a god.

God looked tired.

Celestina stood still.

“Are you Helia?”

“Yes. Some have called me that.”

“Are you all-powerful?”

“I can do all the things which can be done.”

God looked at the bird.

The bird looked back.

“That is the problem.”

Celestina approached.

“What is this?”

“A scientific test.”

“Whose test?”

“Mine.”

She waited.

“What are you testing?”

“Whether the universe can continue without me.”

Celestina stared at Him.

“But you’re God.”

“Yes.”

“How can you stop existing?”

“I created the laws of the world. I created matter. I created thought. I created suffering. I created the people who hate suffering. I created the people who insist that suffering must have a meaning. I created the people who insist it does not.”

“And?”

“And I am tired.”

“Why tell me?”

“Because somebody had to know.”

“What happens if you stop existing?”

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

God smiled.

Celestina closed her eyes. Then God ceased to exist. There was no explosion. The sun continued burning. Her spaceship remained intact.