In the name of Noxon (part 1)

It was the day after my 22nd birthday, when the examiners from the capital's Temple reached our village.

It was time, in fact, that our little valley contributed some officiants to the Great Temple convent, as the last had been the group with my aunt Adrianna, you great-grandmother.

Only two days before, I wouldn't have been eligible - without my mothers consent - because of my young age, but the convoy had arrived just a few days later than expected.

My mothers tried to convince me to stay home, as they had forbidden me to travel to Groira to participate to the selection there, two years before.

They feared for me, but I did not want to end like my sisters, driving tractors in the fields five hours a day, sunburnt to the marrow, with some dumb bimbo as a wife and second-level sperm credits.

I wanted my life to matter, really, and no life matters more than an officiant's one.

Our world very stability,  rather literally, hinges on them doing what our 'god' Noxon commanded, in the beginning of the era. I always believed that, but that was also the first year after the astronomers of Sassafrassa's Mountain completed their revision of our planet's orbit around the Sun.

For the astonishment of almost everybody , and the vivid consternation of our religious authorities of the time, it had been finally proven that our planet's orbit is in fact unstable, and that some unknown external force is responsible for it not spiralling toward the sun and burn.

The consensus among scientists was that our world destruction was, at least, two thousands years overdue.

In other world, science had proven that Noxon likely exist and does, indeed, keep up its part of The Contract, preventing the world destruction every day of our lives.

This had been a terrible news for the great chief of the Church, the Venerated Popess  Justina XIV - by a single scientific revelation, what was a matter of a five millennia old faith had become a simple acknowledgement of facts.

I was too young, then, to realise what terrible forces that revelation would set in motion, of the subtle demotion of my god, Noxon, from an entity of mystery to some obnoxious, sufficiently advanced alien power that had to be satisfied, no matter what.

All I knew was that I wanted to climb the steps of one of his great ziggurat, performs his sacrifices, and some day retire and be revered, a sacred officiant, like the governor of our valley, Laetitia.

I wanted it more than ever, as it was now virtually proven that it helped keeping our world alive.

So, the first day, I was among  the volunteers, in the little square that was the centre of our town, in a light robe that half-showed my skinny body.

It may seem odd to someone as young as you, born in the internet age, but back then there was no Officiants Service that automatically acquired nude photos of every citizen when they reached 18, nor  the annual attitudinal tests were mandatory.

The state hadn't weighted-in in the affairs of the Church yet, and the Church was much more interested in keeping the best possible relationship with the laywomen than it is today.

Now that's been reduced to a branch of the government, gentleness does not matter any more.

So, there was no automatically established ranking for the future officiants, nor compulsory service.

There were just these couples of travelling priestesses, each escorted by a couple of Black Guards, that went from town to town to encounter the volunteers and, when they landed a city that hadn't sent an officiant in more than twenty years, at most could ask the Major to organize a parade of all the girls between 22 and 40 years of age.

It was rare to see them even resort to this last "power", in our region, as the women shapes here are not far from the Noxon's Ideal Form. and, as a result, most volunteers are potentially acceptable

But in other areas of he Empire, sometimes not even one woman could be found in a town that could make "The Walk" with honour, and that after having expanded the call to all potential candidates.

That day it was not different than many other selections in the three thousand years since the valley was settled buy the first women.

In the square, arranged in twelve  rows of ten, we waited, while the two old women passed through our ranks and considered us - our bodies, our expressions, our souls.

A touch on the left shoulder, to tell a candidate that she needed not wait any longer and that she could return to her home. The girl on my left started crying, and went home to her mothers and sisters.

The two women stopped in front of me, then went forward, to touch other girls and women on their left shoulders.

Eve-Lynne, the daughter of Mayor Grobarova ,cried too, when the two women discarded her and she had to leave the square.

I saw the Major smile, the tension leaving her shoulders... and I felt relieved for the old woman.

It was customary for the Mayors of the towns to encourage one of their daughters to volunteer, even when even their eldest was still too young to legally enter a contract, like the barely 18 Eve-Lynne. Usually, these are seldom chosen - but their rejection is not automatic either

That, too, was a tradition soon to be lost in the reversal of the relationship between Church and State.

Soon, there were no more than twenty young women, in the square. The weather was mildly warm, and cloudy - the examiners couldn't count on it, to determine who was though enough to climb the Great Ziggurat, so they had to use an alternate method.

I hated the Sun, so this advantaged me over an older farm-woman like  Hanneke Smith, that at 40 barely qualified to be in the square with us - or so I thought, back then.

I remember my surprise, when the older examiner casually touched Hanneke's right shoulder - she , too, cried, and embraced the eighty years old priestess with those huge arms of hers.

Of all the young, cute, ivory-white girls in the square, the first to be chosen had been an old, masculine worker with skin like tanned leather. It almost reversed my world-view... I really knew so little, back then.

One by one, the priestesses reached the remaining candidates. Most of them, fell on their knees after a moment, and were discarded.

Then they were in front of me. The younger one, nonchalantly, clipped my left nipple  between her right index and thumb.

She squeezed so hard that I felt my leg lose their strength, but I managed to keep my poker face up. The older examiner, then, made a half step back and kicked me in the groin, her foot's neck impacting fully on my clitoris.

My mind went numb, but something inside kept me  standing and endure a second, and then a third strike. Then, I fell down, like the others, but they did not send me away.

They continued, and soon only four women remained in the square.

One of them was my first crush, Jenna Hall, then a tall, willowy girl with pale, long hair. I thought that she was perfect for the role, but the young priestess touched her left shoulder and invited her to go home.

Jenna stood there, disbelieving her cruel fate.

The two priestesses then touched the right shoulders of Francine Ghaul and Gavina Sarra, and the two women marched toward the corner of the square where the two Black Guards were discussing with Hanneke.

Then, the priestesses stopped in front of Cezanne Gogh - my heart jumped, with hope. Cezanne was very cute, but she was also only 19, and the Church usually accepted such young women "with provision",  which meant that they were given back to their family till they reached 22, at which point they could enter the convent without further examination.

It was unusual for the Church to chose less than four officiants, in a selection, so if Cezanne was going home, I was bound to be selected.

I could not see Cezanne or hear the words that she exchanged with the older examiner, but I remember the face of that old woman, the range of emotions that emanated from her - surprise, puzzlement, pain, comprehension. In the end, an old hand held Cezanne's right shoulder, and she moved toward the others.

I was left last, the old priestess in front of me, clearly distracted in her thought. I waited, impatiently... then, I felt a hand on my right shoulder. The younger priestess had come from my back, and was now driving me toward my new companions.

I watched back, above my shoulders. My mothers Hika and Kira and my younger sister Adele were there, crying.

That night, Adele came to town to celebrate my new life with me.

We drank whine and beer, with the other chosen girls and their friends.

We finally ended drunk in bed with Hanneke, who acted more chivalrously than I expected and refused to take Adele's virginity, resisting her numerous and increasingly annoying requests.

By the way, you can use this titbit of information, the next time that she starts grovelling on how kids today are ready to open their legs to any woman.

The morning after, I kissed my half-asleep sister goodbye, and joined my fellows on our voyage toward the capital.

It would be years, before I saw this town and our family again.