He stood at the entrance of the church for a long while. There were still many churches on Earth, it's just that not many people these days visited them. He appeared to be the only one when he finally decided to walk in. The building felt strange for him with it's high ceiling and long, narrow rows of benches. The altar seemed cold and distant. However, he was not heading there. He took a look around and saw a man in long, black robes near one of the benches. He walked over to him and asked shyly. 'Are you a priest?' The man turned around and smiled at him. He had a very warm, gentle smile. 'Yes, my son. Do you seek confession?' 'No...,' He hesitated, unsure what to say to this man. 'I just wanted to talk... father.' He added after another pause. The man looked hardly older than himself, it was strange to call him "father", yet he knew that was the common way of addressing the religious leaders. 'Very well,' answered the priest, immediately abandoning what he had been doing and turning to face the man. 'Let's go some place else,' the priest added and led the man outside through some side doors. They found themselves in a small but nice and tidy garden. The weather was wonderfully programmed for this early spring day: it was sunny and comfortably warm. The priest gestured for the man to sit on a bench in the middle of the green bushes. The place was peaceful and private, probably especially designed for such events. 'How can I help you?' Asked the priest when they sat down. The man sat quietly for a while, contemplating the surroundings. There had to be some creek hidden in the midst of the plants because he could hear the shimmering sound of water. It only added to the sense of tranquility. He only wished he could feel such peace within himself. Finally, he decided to speak. 'Does God exist?' The question was blunt. The priest looked only a little amused. 'I don't know, my son. That question has been asked probably as many times as a human was born but nobody found an answer to it yet.' This statement surprised the man. 'But you are a priest. Aren't you supposed to say "of course He exists?"' 'It's not a matter of knowledge, son. It's a matter of faith,' answered the priest calmly. 'I do believe that He does, but you have to ask and answer that in your own soul. Everybody has to decide for themselves.' The man thought for a while before he spoke again. 'If I decide He exists, then what about other races? I mean, if I believe that He created humans, who created the Vulcans or the Klingons, father?' The priest again looked slightly amused. Or perhaps the sunlight created this twinkle in his eyes. 'He must have created them, too, don't you think?' He answered. 'How come then, that every race has different beliefs? The Klingons believe in Sto Kho Vor, the Ane have their All and it's not a religion at all, the Bajorans believe in the wormhole creatures, the Jem Hadar and Vorta believe the Founders to be gods... Surely it is not right.' The priest sighed. He, among many other people of the 24th century had asked himself similar questions. Certainly faith was a complicated problem in the universe as they knew it. 'I don't know, my son. I know nothing for sure,' he started. 'I just think that God created all life in the universe for his own purpose. We know that God created us, humans and showed us what to do. We are the race of explorers and our role in the galaxy is to unite different races - the ultimate expression of the love Christ taught us. To embrace every sentient being in peaceful coexistence. To respect the ways of others and maintain our own ideals. Perhaps He had different roles for our brothers and sisters? Perhaps the Vulcans are supposed to follow the path of logic instead of that of love? Maybe the Ane have been created with their special ability to communicate with the All to achieve their own goals known only to God? The Klingons have been created as warriors and that may be their own path to God. What are we to understand His doings, my son? Our task is to believe and follow our own conscience. The Bible had been written for humans. Other races have their respective holly books or perhaps they do not need them. It doesn't mean there is no God above us all.' 'And what about the Borg, father?' The man blurted out. The priest didn't answer immediately. In fact, he had struggled with this very problem many a time and still haven't found the answer. He said: 'You've lost someone to them, haven't you?' 'Yes,' the man replied quietly. 'My wife. She was on an exploration ship which was attacked. The whole crew was assimilated. She had done nothing wrong, father, she didn't deserve such a fate.' 'No one deserves it, my son.' 'But it's not only that, father. She's out there somewhere, doing terrible things as a Borg drone. How do I still love her if she is that? How will God love her? I don't believe He could forgive her all those sins. Or maybe He doesn't care?' 'That's certainly not true,' said the priest decidedly. 'If there is anything certain, is that God does care.' 'So that would mean that He forgives everybody and everything. What sense does it make?' 'It's not that mechanical, son. What you have to remember is that God created us with our respective souls and a free will to pursue our lives the way we choose. And that is universal. No matter the race, every sentient creature has these gifts. The Borg drones, on the other hand, have been stripped of these. They cannot be held responsible for their actions since they are not committing them of their own accord. Doesn't that answer your question?' He looked at the man, whose expression visibly darkened. 'No, father,' he answered standing up from the bench. 'It doesn't. Because it means, there is no one responsible for this evil. Nobody will pay for that, since there is no one to blame. That is not right. That is not right,' he repeated as he headed back to the church and then out to the streets. The priest remained in the garden long after the man had been gone.
