I am Alpha Leviticus Leaper.

The betas stepped aside, making Krug-be-praised, as we came up to them. Eyes lowered, air of respect. The social distances. Lilith would have had a much harder time if I didn’t have an alpha’s long lean build. My confidence rose. I even made Krug-be-praised at one of the betas.

We entered the chapel.

A large circular room. No seats. Carpet of thick soft pseudolife, obviously much knelt-upon in its time. Subdued lighting. I remembered to make Krug-be-praised as I walked. One-two-three.

A little vestibule. Two steps beyond it I got my first view of the altar. Lilith down on one knee, submission to the Will. I almost didn’t need to kneel. I almost fell, amazed.

The altar: a large square mass of what looked like living flesh, sitting in an ornate plastic tub. Purple fluid in the tub, swirling around and occasionally over this block of pink meat, which is at least a meter high and maybe three meters by two long, wide.

Behind the altar: my father in hologram. A perfect likeness. Full-size replica, looking at us face-on, stern expression, eyes fiery, lips clamped. Not exactly a god of love. Strong. Man of steel. Because it’s a hologram, the eyes follow you; wherever you are in the chapel you’re under the gaze of Krug.

I drop down. I lift the hands. Palms up.

Submission to the Will of Krug!

It stuns me. Even though I knew before, I still am stunned. Is it like this all over the world, I ask? Androids salaaming to my father? Barely audible whisper. Yes, she says. Yes. We pay homage. Krug be praised.

This man whom I have known all my life. This builder of towers, this inventor of androids. A god? I almost laugh. Am I Son of God? I don’t fit the role. Obviously no one worships me here. I am an afterthought; I am outside theology.

We get to our feet. With a tiny gesture of her head Lilith leads me to a place in the back of the chapel, and we kneel. In the darkness I feel comforted. There are perhaps ten, twelve androids in the chapel, all betas except for one male alpha who kneels right before the altar, back to us. I feel less conspicuous with the alpha there. A few more betas come in, making the appropriate gestures. No one pays any attention to us. The social distances.

Everybody seems deep in private prayer.

Is this the service, Lilith?

Not yet. We’re a little early. You’ll see.

The eyes of Krug drill into me. He almost does look godlike up there. I glare back at him. What would he say if he knew? He’d laugh. He’d pound his desk. He’d belch with joy. Krug the god! Jehovah Krug! Simeon Allah! By Christ, that’s a good one! Why in hell shouldn’t they worship me? I made them, no?

As my eyes grow accustomed to the dimness I examine the pattern on the wall more carefully. It is not, as I first suspected, a purely abstract ornamental design. No: I now see the letters of the alphabet repeated over and over and over, covering every centimeter of wall space. Not all the letters. I run from line to line and see only A, U, G, and C in various combinations, like:

AUA AUG AUC AUU GAA GAG GAC GAU GGA GGG GGC GGU

GCA GCG GCC GCU GUA GUG GUC GUU CAA CAG CAC CAU

So on and so on. What is it, Lilith? The design.

The genetic code, she says. The RNA triplets.

Oh. Yes. Suddenly I remember in Gamma Town, the girl slobie addict calling out letters, G A A G A G G A C. I can see them on the wall now. A prayer?

The sacred language. Like Latin was for Catholics.

I see.

But I don’t really see. I just accept.

I say, And what is the altar made of?

Flesh. Synthetic flesh.

Live?

Of course. Straight from the vat, like me or you. Pardon, not like you. Like me. Just a lump of live android flesh.

What keeps it alive? It’s got no organs or anything.

It gets nutrients from the tank. And injections of something from underneath. But it lives. It grows. It has to be trimmed from time to time. It symbolizes our origin. Not yours. Ours. There’s one in every chapel. Smuggled out of the factory.

Like the rejects.

Like the rejects, yes.

And I thought security arrangements were so tight at the android plants, I say.

Lilith winks at me. I begin to feel like a member of the conspiracy.

Three androids now enter from the rear of the chapel. Two betas and an alpha, wearing brocaded stoles on which the letters of the genetic code are inscribed. They have a priestly look about them. The service is about to begin. As the three kneel by the altar, everyone else makes Krug-be-praised, and then Krug-preserve-us. I do as they do.

Are they priests?

They’re celebrants, Lilith says. We don’t exactly have a priesthood. We have various castes that play different roles in different ceremonies, according to structure and texture of the ritual. The alpha’s a Preserver. He enters a trance that places him in direct communion with Krug. The two betas are Projectors. They amplify his emotional state. At other times you might see Engulfers, Transcenders, or Protectors officiating, with the help of Yielders or Sacrificers or Responders.

Which caste are you?

Responder.

And Thor Watchman?

Preserver.

The alpha by the altar began to chant: CAU, UUC, UCA, CGA. CCG, GCC, GAG, AUC.

Is the whole thing going to be in code?

No. This is just to establish the texture.

What’s he saying?

Two betas not far in front of us turn around to glare. Shushing us. They see we are alphas and bite their lips.

Lilith whispers, more faintly than before, He’s saying, Krug brings us into the world and to Krug we return.

GGC, GUU, UUC, GAG.

Krug is our creator and our protector and our deliverer.

UUC, CUG, CUC, UAC.

Krug, we beseech Thee to lead us toward the light.

I can’t comprehend the code. The symbols don’t match the sense. Which symbol is Krug? How does the grammar work? I can’t ask Lilith that here. Others are turning to stare. Those noisy alphas back there. Don’t they have any respect?

The Projectors hum deep resonant chords. The Preserver continues to chant code. Lilith now begins to function as a Responder, echoing what is chanted. The lights dim and grow bright. The fluid over the altar bubbles more fiercely. The image of Krug seems to glow; the eyes reach into my soul.

Now I can understand about half the words of the service. Interspersed with the code, they are asking Krug to redeem the Children of the Vat, to give them freedom, to lift them to the level of the Children of the Womb. They sing about the day when Womb and Vat and Vat and Womb are one. With an infinity of Krug-preserve-us gestures they beg the mercy of Krug. Krug! Krug! Krug! Krug! Everything here orbits around the idea of a merciful Krug!

I start to see the picture. This is an equality movement! This is an android liberation front!

Krug our master, lead us to our rightful place beside our brothers and sisters of the flesh.

Krug bring redemption.

Krug end our suffering.

Praise be to Krug.

Glory be to Krug.

The service gains intensity. Everyone is singing, chanting, making signs, including several that Lilith never showed me. Lilith herself is wholly absorbed in prayer. I feel isolated, and infidel, an intruder, as I listen to them pray to their creator, my father, who is their god. For long spells the service is conducted entirely in the code-language, but familiar words keep bursting through. Krug descend and redeem us. Krug give your blessing. Krug end this time of testing. Krug we need you. Krug Krug Krug Krug Krug. With each Krug I jump minutely, I twitch in the shoulderblades. I never suspected any of this. How did they keep it so secret? Krug the god. My father the god. And I am Krug too. If Krug dies, what will they worship? How can a god die? Do they preach the resurrection of Krug? Or is Krug on Earth only a transient manifestation of the true Krug on high? From some of the lines of the service, I get that idea.