Part 10 (2/2)
Brother Paul's amazement was giving way to ire. ”This is an idiot's view of religion,” he said. ”You can't claim-”
”You have been brainwashed into conformity with intellectual nonsense,” the Hierophant said with paternal regret. ”Your whole existence has been steeped in religious propaganda. Your memory is imprinted with the face of Caesar and the message 'In G.o.d We Trust.' Your pledge of allegiance to your totemic flag says 'One nation under G.o.d indivisible.' Why not say 'In Satan We Trust,' for Satan has far more constancy than G.o.d. Or 'One nation, embracing a crackpot occult spook, indivisible except by l.u.s.t for power-'”
”Stop!” Brother Paul cried. ”I cannot listen to this sacrilege!”
The Hierophant nodded knowingly. ”So you admit to being the dupe of the organized worldwide conspiracy of religion. Your objectivity exists only so long as the truth does not conflict with the tenets of your cult.”
Brother Paul was angry, but not so angry that he missed the kernel of truth within the religious mockery. This cardboard ent.i.ty was baiting him, pus.h.i.+ng his b.u.t.tons, forcing him to react as it chose. The Animation was in control, not he himself. He had to recover his objectivity, to observe rather than proselytize, or his mission was doomed.
Brother Paul calmed himself by an effort of will that became minimal once he realized what was happening. ”I apologize, Hierophant,” he said, with a fair semblance of calmness. ”Maybe I have been misinformed. I will hear you out.”
After all, freedom of speech applied to everyone, even those with cardboard minds.
The figure smiled. ”Excellent. Ask what you will.”
This was now more difficult than before. Instead of a question, Brother Paul decided to try a statement. Maybe he could gain the initiative and make the Animation react instead; that should be more productive. Obviously there was a mind of some kind behind the facade; the question was, what mind?
”You say I can tolerate only that truth which does not conflict with the tenets of my personal religion,” he said carefully. ”I'm sure that is correct. But I regard my religion as Truth, and I do my best to ascertain the truth of every situation. I support freedom of speech for every person, including those who disagree with me, and I endorse every man's right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. This is part of what I mean when I salute my country's flag, and when I invoke G.o.d's name in routine matters.”
”Few nations support these things,” the Hierophant said. ”Certainly not the monolithic Church. A heretic is ent.i.tled to neither life nor liberty, and no one is ent.i.tled to happiness.”
”But happiness is the natural goal of man!” Brother Paul protested, privately intrigued. Now he was baiting the figure! He considered happiness only a part of the natural goal of man; he himself did not crave selfish happiness. Once, perhaps, he had; but he had matured. Or so he hoped.
”The salvation of his immortal soul is the proper goal of man,” the Hierophant said firmly. ”Happiness has no part of it.”
”But you said man's immortal soul was superst.i.tion, a mere invention sp.a.w.ned by political-”
”Precisely,” the figure agreed, smiling.
”But then it is all for nothing! All man's deeds, man's suffering, unrewarded.”
”You are an apt student.”
Brother Paul shook his head, clearing it. This thing was not going to mousetrap him! ”So the destiny of man is-”
”Man must eschew joy, in favor of perpetual mortification.”
”But all basic instincts of man are tied to pleasure. The satisfaction of abating hunger, the comfort of rest after hard labor, the acute rapture of s.e.xual union-”
”These are temptations sponsored by Satan! The ascetic way of life is the only way. The way of least pleasure. A man should feed on bread and water, sleep on a hard cot, and have contact with the inferior s.e.x only for the limited purpose of propagating the species, if at all.”
”Oh, come now!” Brother Paul protested, laughing. ”s.e.x has been recognized as a dual-function drive. Not only does it foster reproduction, it enhances the pleasure of a continuing interpersonal relations.h.i.+p that solidifies a family.”
”Absolutely not!” the Hierophant insisted. ”The pleasures of fornication are the handiwork of Satan, and the begetting of a child is G.o.d's punishment for that sin, a lifelong penance.”
”Punishment!” Brother Paul exclaimed incredulously. ”If I had a child, I would cherish it forever!” But he wondered whether this were mere rhetoric; he had no experience with children.
The Hierophant frowned. ”You are well on the way to eternal d.a.m.nation!”
”But you said there was no afterlife! How can there be eternal d.a.m.nation?”
”Repent! Mortify yourself, throw yourself upon the tender mercy of the Lord in the hope that He will not torture you too long. Perhaps after suitably horrendous chastis.e.m.e.nt, your soul will be purged of its abysmal burden of guilt.”
Brother Paul shook his head. ”I am trying very hard to be open and objective, but I find I just can't take you seriously. And so you are wasting my time.
Begone!” He turned away, knowing the figure would dissipate. Maybe he had lost this engagement by calling it off, but he didn't regret it.
These Animations were fascinating. There was a tremendous potential for physical, intellectual, and spiritual good here, if only it could be properly understood. So far he had not succeeded in doing that. The Hierophant Animation had spoken only a pseudo-philosophy, as shallow as that of a cardboard figure might be expected to be. If he had Animated a lovely woman, would she have been as bad?
A lovely woman. That intrigued him on another plane. Some men considered intellect a liability in a woman, and indeed some supposedly stupid women I had made excellent careers for themselves by keeping their legs open and their mouths closed. This was not really what Brother Paul was looking for, yet the interest was there. Would an Animation woman be touchable, kissable, seducible?-a construct of air, like a demon, a succubus?
He wrenched his speculation away. It was too intriguing; maybe he was too far on the road to d.a.m.nation! To utilize a phenomenon like Animation merely to gratify a pa.s.sing l.u.s.t! Of course there was nothing wrong with l.u.s.t; it was G.o.d's way of reminding man that the species needed to be replicated, and it provided women of lesser physical strength with a means to manage otherwise unmanageable men. But l.u.s.t directed at a construct of air and imagination could hardly serve those purposes. ”Get thee behind me, Satan,” he murmured. But even that prayer was useless, for Satan was also the master of b.u.g.g.e.ry: not the type of ent.i.ty a man would care to have standing near his posterior.
Brother Paul looked at his watch. His time was up; in fact he was already overdue. Why hadn't the watchers notified him? He must return to the non-Animation area.
But which way was out? Clouds were swirling close; a storm was in the neighborhood. Why hadn't he noticed it coming? This too should have caused the watchers to- Suddenly he remembered. They had called him- and he had been too preoccupied to notice it consciously. The pastor must have a.s.sumed that the signal wasn't getting through. Still, he might have sent someone in...
The hoodwinked girl, representing the Eight of Swords! Had Amaranth come in to warn him, after the transceiver contact had failed, and been incorporated into that mute image? There was some evidence that Animations were ordinary things, transformed perceptually, so maybe an Animation person was a real person, playing a part But that didn't make sense either; why would a person play such a part? No one claimed that Animation affected the inner workings of the mind; it only changed perceptions of external things.
Maybe Amaranth had come in, and been deceived by the various images he had conjured, and lost her way. Now he and she-and probably the various hidden watchers-were stranded in the Animation region, in a storm, unless he got out in a hurry, and brought them out with him.
How to do it? He should call out, of course! Establish contact with those outside, obtain geographic directions. ”Pastor Runford!” he said to his transceiver.
There was static, but no answer. This was not surprising; the range of the tiny wand was limited, and terrain and weather could interfere. Probably the watchers had been forced to retreat before the storm, lest they be caught in the spreading Animation region.
His predicament was his own fault. He had been careless, when he should have been alert. He was only sorry that he had involved others in it, a.s.suming they had not gotten out safely. What next?
Well, the Tarot deck had gotten him into this, to a certain extent; maybe it could get him out. He brought out the deck again and sorted through it.
Maybe one of the fives- The first five he encountered was the Five of Cups, pictured by three spilled and two standing cups. Symbolic of loss, disappointment, and vain regret.
Precisely.
He studied the card, uncertain as to what to do now. And the picture formed before him. A man stood in a black cloak, his head bowed in the direction of the spilled cups, ignoring the two that remained standing. In the background a river flowed by-the stream of the unconscious, symbolically-and across it stretched a bridge leading to a small castle. Could that be the same castle he had seen in the Animation of the Ace of Wands? If so, he could use it for orientation. It was probably just the background, like a painted setting, representing no more than the orientation of the painting. Still, if he held the scene in mind, maintaining its reality, the others caught in this region might be able to orient on it, and then they all could find their way out together. The colonists would know the real landscape better than he did.
Was this crazy? Probably, but it was still worth a try. If he could approach that distant castle, so could they. Maybe they knew their way out, and were trying to locate him, to guide him out too, and the castle could serve as a rendezvous. At least he could test that hypothesis.
First, he would check with the black-cloaked figure. Maybe it was just the Hierophant, in a new role. On the other hand, it could be a watcher, impressed into this role, if that were possible.
Brother Paul stepped forward. And suddenly he was inside the picture, advancing toward the bridge. The cloaked figure heard him and began to turn. The face came into full view. And there was no face, just a smooth expanse of flesh, like the face of an incomplete store-window mannequin.
6.
Choice
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