the VOICE
'As do I.' The Voice replies in a low tone, her lashes slipping shut as she nods her agreement. There is not a day, minute, or hour that passes where her failings and all those who committed their faith to her go unremembered.
To this question, the Voice shrugs softly. "For all the love of Mort, death is merely another construct. If I thought your souls would be welcomed, that they'd be treated fairly, we might find a way to make it possible. But is there any reason to believe that, after allowing such blatant disregard and discrimination against you, that in death things would be any different? If the souls sent to Mort still have free will and minds of their own, will the hate not continue? And if they don't, if it truly is some sort of paradise where everyone is forced to get along and love thy neighbour, is that a place you'd really want to go?"
The Voice shakes her head. "It is another lie they tell themselves. What I am to you is no different than what their gods are to them, save for the fact that unlike them, I am here among you."
To this question, the Voice shrugs softly. "For all the love of Mort, death is merely another construct. If I thought your souls would be welcomed, that they'd be treated fairly, we might find a way to make it possible. But is there any reason to believe that, after allowing such blatant disregard and discrimination against you, that in death things would be any different? If the souls sent to Mort still have free will and minds of their own, will the hate not continue? And if they don't, if it truly is some sort of paradise where everyone is forced to get along and love thy neighbour, is that a place you'd really want to go?"
The Voice shakes her head. "It is another lie they tell themselves. What I am to you is no different than what their gods are to them, save for the fact that unlike them, I am here among you."
