Gavril lounged against the back wall of the schoolhouse, arms folded as he surveyed the scene before him with contempt.

The younger children gazed, rapt, at a projector in the front of the schoolhouse as it spoke the same words over and over again. The monotony did not seem to bother the children; they found an almost hypnotic confidence in it. The youngest could not speak D'ni yet, although they would be taught soon enough. They were simply enthralled by the authority in the man's tone, the way he spoke to them, and the unfamiliar rhythm of the words. Some of them were even frightened by the intense look in his eyes and the intensity with which he delivered its message.

The routine never changed. It was the same day after day. The recording was played, over and over again, until the children could recite it in their sleep. It permeated their thought patterns, it diffused into every aspect of their decision making. By the time they had grown into adults, they were so accustomed to the ideas contained in the recording that to suggest they were untrue was shocking, even blasphemous.

This man, Gehn, was a god. He created them. Without him, they would not exist. They had him to thank for every nourishing breath, every loving caress, every warm meal. When they were upset, sad, or hungry, they prayed to Gehn for aid. His temple, which was on a neighboring island, was a place of pilgrimage. The people brought offerings of fruit, money, idols, or anything else they could gather or create to honor him. They presented the gifts in the shrine of the Temple and bowed down, prostrate, crying out prayers to the god. To Gehn.

And sometimes, if they were incredibly lucky, if they were truly blessed, they would catch a glimpse at the face of the god.

His body was never visible, just a disembodied head - huge, oversized, ethereal. It floated out of nowhere, in a giant cage dedicated to the god. Although it rarely appeared, when it did it was always in the same place, in that huge cage. The face was almost transparent, yet it spoke - in D'ni - thanking them for their offerings and encouraging further piety. This was the primary reason to learn the language, to listen to words directly from the god's mouth. Those who were lucky enough to see Gehn were regarded almost as gods themselves. People ran to them and bowed, touched their cloaks, uttered prayers. They were sacred, for they had seen the face of their deity.

All of this idiocy was a result of the indoctrination that began in this schoolhouse.

Gavril scowled slightly. The boy nearest to him cringed and looked away, unwilling to associate himself with a blasphemer like Gavril.

The children did not yet know he was a god, but they would - as they learned D'ni, the sacred language, they would understand more and more of his speech, until they realized it was a prouncement from their creator! Soon, the daily repetitions of the message would take on a religious meaning, would be regarded as the holiest point in the day. Soon they would beg their parents for a trip to the Temple, to offer votive statues they crafted during school.

Gavril thought it was all quite stupid.

His mother, the picture of piety, was deeply concerned, but his father dismissed it as teenage rebellion. Gavril was, after all, one of the oldest students in the village school. He was quite intelligent, but he was sullen and withdrawn. At 16, he had not graduated yet, because he had refused to utter a complex series of prayers to Gehn. He had been repeatedly told that such blasphemy was a dangerous road to start on. He had been warned that dissent, especially religious dissent, was not tolerated by the followers of Gehn. Yet he refused to utter the prayers, and he was not allowed to graduate.

What was the point, anyway? Gavril didn't see any reason to leave school. Once he did, he would have to work. Right now, he could just slouch in the back of the classroom and sleep or daydream, and once school got out for the day, he could converse with his few friends. Why should he leave the school and become one of all the other emotionless drudges?

No, he was content to stand in the back, or sit, and disturb people just by looking at them. He liked to disturb people - he found it oddly satisfying. The villagers were kind to him, but he was often rough back. Even among other teenagers, he was generally avoided. His short, dark black hair and piercing eyes were attractive to many of the village girls, and although most were afraid of him, they found his rebellion strangely enticing. Gavril knew he was attractive, and he was glad of it. Although some people his age were already married, Rivenese culture centered around fertility, and promiscuity was generally not looked down upon as long as marriage vows were not violated. Gavril was a pleasure-seeker by every definition, and he delighted in the fact that most of the girls gave themselves to him willingly. The only problems occurred when they wanted a lasting relationship - he didn't have that kind of patience.

Gavril yawned loudly, not attempting to hide his boredom. One girl turned around to glare at him, and he winked at her. She blushed slightly and turned away, and Gavril laughed to himself. The few girls who disliked him learned quickly.

Gavril's childish desire for pleasure was not the only reason he would probably never marry. He knew that, despite its attraction, no girl wanted to be bound to someone with as unorthodox a philosophy as his - it was begging for trouble. One man had even been executed once as a result of refusing to worship Gehn.

In addition to thinking the Gehn worship was idiotic, Gavril knew there was something strange about it. He had a strong suspicion that Gehn was no more divine than he was - perhaps even less so, since he constantly felt it necessary to broadcast his divinity. So he spoke another language - so what? Why did that make him a god? Gavril had been to the Temple once, and he had noticed that the large cage there was almost identical in structure to the projector inside the classroom. He had a feeling there was a similar technology involved, and that the disembodied face in the cage was no more divine than this silly recording.

Yet nobody else seemed to realize it was stupid.

Didn't anyone realize that the world was crumbling before their eyes? Did nobody remember that the five fractured islands had once been one? Did nobody remember the Great Tree, which had been completely destroyed? How long would it take before their world just dissolved into nothing?

If Gehn was a god, he was one with a sadistic sense of humor. What other god enjoyed watching his creation fall apart while its people continued to worship blindly?