Free Godless by Pete Hautman

The Ocean was not yet satisfied that all had heard, and so he caused his body to swell and rise and sweep over the deltas, the lowlands, the plains, the mesas, the mountains….
    â€œThis is some wild stuff. Where’d you get it?”
    â€œIt just sort of comes out. I started writing it last week.”
    I flip back through the notebook. There are about sixty pages covered with Shin’s minute script, with a few tiny drawings of water towers mixed in. Some of the water towers are airborne, jetting across the page.
    â€œYou wrote all this in a week?” I read the first lines from the first page:
    In the beginning was the Ocean. And the Ocean was alone.
    â€œI don’t get it. What ocean?”
    â€œAll of them. They’re all connected, you know.”
    And the Ocean did not know where it ended or where it began, and so it created Time. And the Ocean passed through Time.

    I flip through the notebook. Page after page after page.
    Shin says, “It’s like it’s not even me writing. I just watch the pen move across the page. I think maybe I’m channeling him.”
    â€œChanneling who?”
    â€œThe Ten-legged One.”
    We lock eyes for a few seconds and I swear to god—whatever god you want—I have absolutely no idea whether or not he’s kidding.

 
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    A T FIRST, THE H UMANS DID NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT THE O CEAN WAS SAYING . T HEY HEARD ONLY CREAKS AND GROANS AND THE WHISTLING OF THE WIND . B UT ONE H UMAN, GREAT OF INTELLIGENCE AND GREAT OF SENSITIVITY, HEARD THE O CEAN’S WORDS, AND LO ! H E BEGAN TO SPEAK WITH THE O CEAN’S VOICE .
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14
 
    Being the leader of a growing religion is not all power and glory. For one thing, there is way too much politics. In other words, you have to lie a lot.
    On this day, the Founder and Head Kahuna of the Chutengodians uttered four lies.
    First, I told Magda that I would take her up the next time I climbed the water tower. But I knew that I would be going up with Shin that very night, so I couldn’t invite her to come. Why? Because I was sure that Shin would fail. There was no way a skinny, bookish, snail-raising guy like Shin could monkey his way up that leg, and I didn’t want him to fail in front of Magda. That was a good lie, I told myself.
    Second, I did not tell Shin that I made Henry Stagg the new High Priest of the CTG. Sooner or later Shin will find out. He’ll probably sulk for days. Shin is a delicate fellow. I don’t like to see him upset.
    Third, I did not tell Shin that I didn’t believe he could actually climb the tower leg.
    Fourth, as Shin was struggling to climb the first twenty feet up the tower leg, I shouted down to him, “C’mon Shin, you can do it!” even though I knew he could not.
    I never used to lie to my friends this way, especially Shin. And now here I am, thirty feet up God’s leg, while a few feet below me the First Keeper of the Sacred Text is frozen in place, too terrified to move.
    â€œIt’s okay,” I say—another lie. It’s not okay. “Just relax, then move one foot down a few inches.”
    â€œMy legs won’t move.”
    â€œYes they will.”
    â€œHelp me.”
    â€œI can’t climb over you, Shin.”
    Shin does not reply.
    â€œYou’re only twenty feet from the ground. Even if you fall you’ll probably survive.”
    Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.
    â€œShin?”
    Uh-oh. I look down. Shin is clinging to the leg, not moving at all. He’s gone into his shell. Now what? I can’t climb over him or around him so, as the saying goes, there’s no place to go but up. So up I go.
    It’s easier this time, because I know I can do it. Also, I’m worried about Shin. I don’t know how long he can hang on. Maybe seconds; maybe hours. I reach the catwalk,head straight across to the spiral staircase, and climb down. At the bottom of the staircase I let myself hang by my