The Voice of God

The Voice of God


By


P.J. Lawton



God was talking to him. It had to be God; only God would have such a
warm comforting tone. Only God's voice could be so rich, so melodious.
Yes, it was God all right; it had to be. The first voice though, that
wasn't God. It was too cold, mechanical and emotionless. No, that
hadn't been God.


He had been hearing the voices for almost two days now ever
since he had awakened. He didn't know where he was. He didn't even know
who he was. All he knew was that he was injured very seriously. When he
had awakened he had found him self half inside a smashed up machine out
in the middle of some very inhospitable wilderness. He realized that he
should know what this was all about but, hey, he just couldn't
remember.


He had awakened to the first voice, the cold voice. He didn't
really understand all of it, just bits and pieces.


. . . ARGO-1 this is control, do you read. . . ARGO-1 we are
barely reading your signs. . .ARGO-1 if you read turn on your
transponder. . . ARGO-1 this is control, do you read. .



After awhile the voice stopped talking. He wasn't sure how
long, must have been hours later when God started talking to him. He
had managed somehow to pull his torn battered body out of the machine.
The super heated ground on which he was sitting almost brought a memory
forward, but no it slipped away. He almost didn't hear God's voice at
first. When he did he realized it was the most beautiful thing he had
ever heard. It was like magical floating music on the air.



. . .ARGO-1 this is Matrix Mission Control. . . AGRO-1 we can
barely read your signal please turn on you transponder . . . ARGO-1 I
know from your vitals that you're badly injured but don't give up, we
are going to help you. . . ARGO-1 we are moving out of range, hang in
there my friend, I'll contact you in six hours, this is Mission
Control, Out. . .


That was the first time he had heard from God. God was
calling for someone or something called ARGO-1. I suppose that could be
me, he thought. He hadn't understood much of it but he did know that
the voice would talk to him again in six hours. He moved to the little
shade offered by the broken machine and settled in for his wait. God
was going to help him; the amazing voice had said so.


A muffled sound inside his head brought him around.



. . .ARGO-1 this is Matrix Mission Control, do you read. . .
Look my friend we are going to help you but you have to help us. . .
AGRO-1, if you can hear me push the red button on your wrist gauntlet.
. .


He looked down at his wrist and found a wide metal gauntlet
containing several buttons and switches. God had said the red one
right? Barely able to move he slipped his hand over and pushed the
button and said "Okay God, now what?"


. . . that's great ARGO-1. It appears that you com link is
not functioning but now I know that you can hear me. . . now listen up,
here's what I want you to do. . .


Several more times he attempted to answer God but it appeared
that God couldn't hear. At least he could still hear that smooth
wonderful voice. Later the voice told him to push the green button to
activate his transponder. He had no idea what a transponder was but he
pushed the button anyway.


Twice more God's voice left and then returned. Twice during
the silence he had been about to let go, let the darkness take him.
Each time the beautiful words brought him back. However, he had been
here for a long time now and knew he was getting weaker and weaker. He
had to hold on. The miraculous voice had told him that the transponder
would give them his location and they would be coming for him.



So weak he could barely keep his eyes open, he had missed
most of the last message from the voice. It was something about only a
few more hours. He didn't know how long ago that had been, could have
been minutes, could have been hours.


Surprisingly, in the distance he could see something
approaching that looked to be some sort of machine. Must be the
messengers from God, it had to be, the voice had promised him that they
were coming to save him. Forcing himself upward pushing his battered
and broken body more than he thought was possible he moved to stand.
Putting on his brightest smile, he raised his hand to welcome them.
Suddenly darkness overwhelmed him. With hardly a sound he slowly
toppled forward into the dust, a slight quiver, and he was still.



The two Space Marines stopped their armored land speeder by
the crashed one-man space ship.


The first stepped forward and looked down at the broken body
lying in the dust.


"See, I told you it was an alien ship. Look. He's dead all
right."


"Well, Sarge what do we do now? Do you think he was able to
get a message off? The ship looks pretty burned out. Hopefully the
radio equipment was destroyed."


"Radio equipment? Hell, son they don't use radio equipment.
Look there behind his ear. That's a communication implant. That's how
they talk to each other. The signal lets the message go directly into
the brain. Don't need any radios.
Come on lets go, there's nothing more to do here."


Somewhere in the darkness of space a beautiful but saddened
tear choked voice was speaking.


. . . ARGO-1 are you there, please come in. . .ARGO-1. . .
ARGO-1 please. . .


End