Creation Page #2

Now that Hooker

and I finally have a bit of clout,

we can start to reclaim science

as a profession.

Wrest it away from the country parsons

and beetle collectors.

- Some of whom are friends.

- Your book will be our rallying point.

No, it won't. There is no book.

There are fragments, and they're not

in any fit state to publish.

I've read your abstract

and the argument is hugely powerful.

Clear evidence of transformation

over millions of years

from a free-swimming prawn

to a shellfish stuck on a rock.

That's my point. You can't be sure of

that, and that's why I need more time.

- Mr Darwin, sir?

- Yes?

Either you are being disingenuous or you

do not fully understand your own theory.

Evidently, what is true of the barnacle

is true of all creatures, even humans.

The Almighty can no longer claim to have

authored every species in under a week.

You've killed God, sir.

You have killed God.

Or to put it another way...

And I say good riddance

to the vindictive old bugger!

- Charles? Charles?

- Oh, no, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.

- Thomas, please.

- Yes, I quite understand.

It is time to write your book.

Strike hard and fast

with a blow that is utterly conclusive.

Really, sir, you...

You talk as if we're at war.

Yes. Science is at war with religion,

and when we win,

we'll finally be rid of

those damned archbishops

and their threats of eternal punishment.

No, Mr Huxley, we...

We live in a society and it is a society

bound together by the Church.

An improbable sort of barque,

I grant you, but at least it floats.

It floats. And you would what?

You would have us all rebuild,

plank by plank,

the very vessel in which we sail?

Oh, come, come, Charles! Did...

Did God's laws change your Fuegians?

Was Jenny the ape any less personable

for not being a person?

Our behaviour, like our physical forms,

evolves according to our needs.

Your very own words, sir!

And thus, in time, we lose those parts

that are no longer required.

Like the appendix, the male nipple,

and finally, thank Christ,

our belief

in an utterly redundant Almighty!

Mr Hooker?

I... implore you,

please do not push him.

No one can push Charles.

You know how fixed he is.

- Bit of a barnacle himself, really.

- Yes.

And if you prise him from his rock,

he will die.

Come on, Hooker. It'll be dark soon.

So, what did she say to you?

She said it was killing him.

Yes. Mighty slow death considering the

length of time he's sat on this stuff.

We shall all be dead and buried

ourselves if he takes much longer.

Yes, since his girl died,

one has to admit...

he's not the man he was.

When are you going to be done

with those stinky old barnacles?

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