"Why do you ask?" My mother wasn’t the only one who could answer a question with a question.
"I just wanted…" Ubatu paused and bit her lip, as if trying to decide whether to say something. Finally she took a deep breath. "Have you heard of Ifa-Vodun?"
"Is that a person?"
"No. Ifa-Vodun means Spirit of Prophecy. It’s a movement."
"You mean a religion."
She shrugged. "I see it more as a sensible response to humanity’s position in the cosmos."
"What position would that be?"
"The bottom of the heap, looking up. Above us are all kinds of aliens with varying degrees of power and knowledge… so it makes sense for us to reach out however we can. Contact some of those aliens and see what happens."
"Don’t we do that already?" I asked. "You’re in the Diplomacy Corps. Surely you know how hard the navy and Technocracy government keep working to establish relations with higher aliens."
Ubatu made a face. "Oh yes, they’re constantly trying to ‘establish relations’… old-fashioned diplomacy with official envoys, and embassies, and notes of accreditation. But our diplomatic protocols have always been geared for creatures on our own intellectual level, not for higher beings. In the four centuries since we left Old Earth, our diplomacy hasn’t got anywhere with elevated lifeforms. Sometimes an advanced entity will speak to selected humans for its own purposes, but it doesn’t work the other way. Standard diplomacy has failed to set up any back-and-forth dialogue."
"In the Explorer Academy," I said, "our teachers believed that higher lifeforms don’t want back-and-forth dialogue… any more than we humans want dialogue with slugs and earthworms. As you said, higher lifeforms only interact with humans when it suits their own purposes. Otherwise, they have better things to do than chat with Homo sapiens."
"Exactly!" Ubatu smiled as if I’d just proved her point. "We’ve been trying to catch higher aliens’ attention for four centuries. If they wanted to talk to us, they would have. So isn’t it time to admit that conventional diplomacy doesn’t work?"
I kept my face passive, but internally I winced. When people announce that diplomacy has failed, there’s always a Plan B they’re eager to try. History is littered with disastrous Plan Bs. "What’s the alternative to diplomacy?" I asked.
"Other forms of approach," Ubatu said. "Other ways of soliciting attention."
"Such as?"
"Ifa-Vodun. Which means recognizing that higher lifeforms are higher lifeforms. We can’t approach superior beings as if we’re their equals. It’s better to approach them as supplicants."
"Supplicants? Ah." I suddenly got the picture. "You’re setting up a religion to worship advanced aliens."
"We don’t put it like that. Ifa-Vodun adopts traditional methods of divine entreaty as an alternative to sterile diplomatic culture."
She’s quoting some pamphlet, I thought. "So instead of writing communiques, you get naked and chop off the head of a chicken?"
I meant it as a joke… but she nodded.
"Yes, we’re experimenting with animal sacrifice. Blood rituals of all kinds. And, of course, chanting, dancing, sacramental copulation. Ifa-Vodun is a new movement — we’re investigating a diversity of avenues to see what works."
"So… so…" I’d just realized the significance of Vodun in the name of Ubatu’s "movement." "Are you seriously telling me that members of the Dip Corps are trying to catch aliens’ attention through voodoo?"
"Don’t be dismissive," she said. "Traditional Vodun is a respectable faith — nothing like the way it’s portrayed in Devils’n’Demolition VR. Besides, Ifa-Vodun doesn’t ask you to believe Vodun theology. We’re just seeing if Vodun forms can win perks from higher beings."
"So you don’t even respect voodoo as a religion? It’s just a means to an end?"
"We would never trivialize…" Ubatu stopped herself and took a breath. "Our movement respects Vodun enough to adopt its practices. Doesn’t that speak for itself?"
Perhaps. I knew little about Voodoo/Vodun. Maybe sincere believers would take it as a compliment if navy diplomats co-opted Vodun rites to suck up to aliens. Probably a number of those diplomats were believers themselves; there must be a reason why they chose Vodun over all the other human religions that have sought to win favor with powerful spirits. And maybe the Dip Corps was full of such "movements." Ifa-Vodun struck a chord with people of appropriate cultural background. Meanwhile, maybe diplomats of Bamar origin did homage to advanced lifeforms by burning PARINIRVANA BRAND INCENSE-STICKS™.
But there was still one important question. "Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
Ubatu turned away as if the answer embarrassed her. Finally she said, "Do you know what it means to be ridden by the loa?"
"No. What’s a loa?"
"A Vodun spirit. There are lots of different loa, but most are benevolent, wise, and powerful. When a loa rides somebody, it means the spirit takes over the person’s body. The loa speaks and acts through the person being ridden."
"In other words, the person is possessed by the loa spirit."
"More or less," Ubatu said. "It’s a time when others can talk to the loa. You ask questions, and maybe the loa will answer."
"The loa become diplomatically approachable?"
"Exactly! Using Vodun rituals, you summon a loa to ride a chosen host so you can converse respectfully. Ifa-Vodun is very interested in loa possession… and in finding ways to entice the spirits to do it more often."
Ah. Finally, I made the connection — what this visit was about. I had spores inside me… or to use Ubatu’s terminology, I was being ridden by the powerful alien loa that called itself the Balrog. By the precepts of Ifa-Vodun, I was therefore a prime diplomatic opportunity. Maybe the Balrog would speak through me, sharing valuable knowledge about the universe. Even if that didn’t happen, Ubatu wanted to learn what I’d done to draw the spores into me: how I’d made myself a tempting vessel for loa/alien possession.
Thinking back on the past few hours, I realized Ubatu had displayed great interest in Balrog behavior. I’d interpreted that as ghoulish fascination at the thought of others being eaten… but I’d been wrong. This went deeper than casual curiosity. It was like some religious imperative, fostered by a secret society within the Diplomacy Corps and leading who knew where?
"You should go now," I told Ubatu. "I want you to go. Get out."
"All right," Ubatu said. "For now. You still have too much personal control to let the Balrog speak to me. But that will change, won’t it? The Balrog will slowly edge you out. Then I’ll find ways to win it over."
"Beheading a chicken and writing with its blood?"
"We’ll see."
She stood abruptly, a tall woman looming above me… and suddenly her black-on-black outfit with abstract silver symbols embedded in the flesh of her arms and belly struck me as much more than they’d originally seemed. I’d thought it was all just fashionable streetwear; but really she’d traded her navy gold for another uniform. An Ifa-Vodun priestess? A priestess who hoped the Balrog would expunge my Youn Suu personality, thereby becoming pure loa?
"Leave," I said.
"I’m leaving. Good night."
She made an odd gesture as she went through the door. I didn’t want to guess its significance.
CHAPTER 7
Anatta [Sanskrit]: The precept that no one has a permanent self. Other religions may believe in an "immortal soul," but the Buddha rejected this idea. He contended we are all composite beings, made of flesh, thoughts, emotions, etc., and all these change over time. There is no component one can point to and say, "That is my unchanging core."