This story takes place on the habitable moon of another planet, where humans and robots, who had become conscious, amicably parted ways two centuries before. The humans live in bucolic renewable energy-sourced peace in one region, while the descendants of the robots inhabit a "wilderness" region. There's been no contact between the two populations until a human, named Dex, restless in their life as a monk for one of six gods the community venerates, sets off in quest of an abandoned hermitage in the wilderness. On the way they encounter Splendid Speckled Mosscap, a third-generation robot, composed sustainably of repurposed pieces from earlier robots, who volunteered for a mission to find out what humans need. A series of gently deep philosophical conversations ensue as they make their way to the hermitage, including some about religion.
Mosscap pointed to the wagon. "These symbols - I should've realized." It quickly stood and walked over to study the mural. "The bear, yes, and the All-Six Sigil, yes, yes, of course." It ran its finger over a stripe of paint. "The symbols are there; I just didn't recognize them. The style is so different." It knelt down, following the colorful swirls. "So much has changed from what we recorded," the robot said quietly.
Mosscap pointed to the wagon. "These symbols - I should've realized." It quickly stood and walked over to study the mural. "The bear, yes, and the All-Six Sigil, yes, yes, of course." It ran its finger over a stripe of paint. "The symbols are there; I just didn't recognize them. The style is so different." It knelt down, following the colorful swirls. "So much has changed from what we recorded," the robot said quietly. Dex's brow furrowed as Mosscap stood in contemplation of the artwork. "I didn't expect you to know the gods."
"If you mean the custom of human religion, we know everything we observed of you during our time together. But as for the gods themselves, they're everywhere and in everything," Mosscap smiled at Dex. "Surely you know this."
"Yes," Dex said tersely. They weren't about to get lectured on theology by a machine. "But just because a bird or a rock or a wagon follows the gods' law doesn't mean those things know the gods are there."
"Well, I'm not a bird, or a rock, or a wagon. I think like you do. Which makes sense after all. Someone like you made us. How could I think any other way?" ([NY: Tor, 2021], 60)
I'm tempted to bring this slyly profound passage into "After Religion." There's a segment of the class looking at "religion beyond the human" in robots, algorithms and AI, and students have found the questions particularly engaging. But before that I'll need to read the second volume of the "Monk and Robot Duology," which I've ordered myself for my birthday.
