Part 16 (2/2)

8.

Emotion

And Saul, yet breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord, went unto the high priest, And desired of him letters to Damascus to the synagogues, that if he found any of this way, whether they were men or women, he might bring them bound unto Jerusalem.

And as he journeyed, he came near Damascus: and suddenly there s.h.i.+ned round about him a light from heaven: And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?

And he said, Who art thou, Lord? And the Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest: it is hard for thee to kick against the p.r.i.c.ks.*

* ”to kick against the p.r.i.c.ks”-i.e., to oppose the p.r.i.c.ks of conscience.

And he trembling and astonished said, Lord, what wilt thou have me to do? And the Lord said unto him, arise, and go into the city, and it shall be told thee what thou must do.

And the men which journeyed with him stood speechless, hearing a voice, but seeing no man.

And Saul arose from the earth; and when his eyes were opened, he saw no man: but they led him by the hand, and brought him into Damascus.

And he was three days without sight, and neither did eat nor drink.

THE BIBLE: King James Version ACTS IX: 1-9

Paul sniffed, trying to clear his nostrils of the stink of s.h.i.+t. He was driving a car, an old-fas.h.i.+oned internal combustion machine, wasteful of fuel. Therefore this was pre-MT Earth, oddly strange and just as oddly familiar. He knew this was another Animation, quite different from the last, but still a construct of some aspect of his imagination or his memory. Another direction governed by precession, whose laws he did not yet comprehend well enough to utilize consciously.

He seemed to recall having taken a drive like this, perhaps ten years ago, perhaps nine, but where had he come from then, and where had he been going? It would not come clear.

There were many other cars on the highway, traveling at the maximum velocity their governors permitted: 100 KPH, nice and even. All good things were governed by hundreds; it was the decimal, metric, percentage system. Easy to compute with, easy to verify, divisible by many numbers.

The cars were like his own: small hydrogen burners, streamlined, comfortable.

The hydrogen was separated from water at various power plants; some of it was used for fusion into helium for major power, and some for combination with oxygen to make water again (clean water was precious), some treated for nonignition and put into transport blimps, and some burned explosively in motors. Hydrogen: the most versatile element. Paul was uncertain of the original source of power used to separate out the gas, but obviously it sufficed to run the system.

In just a few years all this would change, as the MT program burst upon them and co-opted all the convenient major energy sources. The creature from Sphere Antares, whose very presence was kept secret from the people of the world he so changed; what mischief was he to wreak on Sphere Sol? But right now people were indulging in their last fling; private transportation was still within the rights and means of the average citizen. Barely.

Paul himself could not afford this car. He had the use of it illicitly: he was drug-running. Hidden so well that even he had no notion of where it was, was a cache of mnem, p.r.o.nounced ”NEEM”: the memory drug. Students used it when cramming for exams; when high on mnem their retention became almost total, enabling them to make very high marks on rote-work without actually cheating. It did not enhance intelligence or give them lasting skills, but temporary memorization was so important in taking machine-graded examinations that this often made the difference in the compet.i.tive grade listings that determined eligibility for employment or promotion. Paul himself had never used mnem during his college days, not because of unavailability, expense, or ethics, but because he hadn't needed it. His college used no tests or grades. The drug had few side effects and could be detected in the human system only through extraordinary clinical procedures that cost more than the public clinics could afford.

Therefore it was fairly safe to use, and much in demand.

There were only three drawbacks to mnem. First, it was illegal. That bothered very few people; when morality conflicted with convenience, morality suffered.

Second, it was expensive, after the manner of addictive illegal drugs; the cost was not in the manufacture but in the illicit distribution system. That bothered more people, but not enough to seriously inhibit its use. The criminal element had a sharp eye for what the market would bear, just as did the business element. In fact, the abilities and scruples of the two elements were similar, and there was considerable overlapping. The mnem cartel proffered incentive options for those in critical need, such as Paul himself. For he, after college, had found a use for mnem. Third, mnem withdrawal caused not only the loss of the drug-enhanced memories, but a more general mnemonic deterioration, leading to disorientation and irregular amnesia. Thus the addiction was neither psychological nor physiological, but practical: once ”hooked,” a user could not function without mnem. That bothered most people, but they tended not to think about that aspect. It was a paradox of mnem, the subject of much folk humor, that it made people forget its chief drawback while it sharpened their memories enormously.

Which was why Paul was risking his freedom by running this s.h.i.+pment across state lines. He had used the drug to become expert in his sideline; now he could maintain his habit only by cooperating with the suppliers. Fortunately they did not require a particular person to do it often; this was not done from concern for the welfare of the individual, but as a precaution against discovery by the authorities. It might be a year before Paul would have to drive again, and in the interim his own supply of mnem was free. It was really a good deal.

There was someone standing at the margin of the highway; the figure seemed to be female. Other cars were rus.h.i.+ng by, of course; it was dangerous to pick up a hitchhiker, male or female. But Paul sometimes got restless; though he did not drive often, this long trip bored him. Company would make a difference, particularly feminine company.

He stopped. The girl saw him and ran up. She was young, probably not out of her teens, but surprisingly well developed. Her clothing was scant and in disarray; in fact she was in a rather flimsy nightgown that outlined her heaving b.r.e.a.s.t.s with much stronger erotic appeal than she could have managed by any deliberate exposure. A natural girl in an unnatural situation.

”Oh, thank you!” she gasped, climbing into the seat next to him. ”I was so afraid no one would stop before the police came.”

”The police?” he asked with sudden nervousness. If she was a criminal- ”Oh, please, sir-drive!” she cried. ”I'll explain, it's all right, no trouble for you, only lose us in the traffic. Please!”

But he hesitated, the car still parked. ”I have no money worth taking, only a keyed credit you can't use. This car requires my thumbprint every half hour, or the motor locks and the automatic takes over, so you can't-”

She faced him, and he was surprised to see tears on her cheeks. Her fair hair was bedraggled, yet she was lovely in her wild way. ”You are in no danger from me, sir! I have no weapon. I have nothing. No food, no identification. I don't know how I can repay you, but please, please drive, or all is lost. I would rather die than go back there!”

Still ill-at-ease, he moved the car forward, gaining speed until he was able to merge into the traffic flow. ”Where are you going?” he inquired.

”To the Barlowville Station,” she said.

He started punching the coding into his computer terminal, seeking a clarification of the address. ”Oh, no!” she protested. ”Please, sir, don't ask the machine! They'll key it in to me, and in minutes the police-”

The demon in the machine. Paul's fingers froze. ”You're on the criminal index?”

he asked, alarmed. He had just about decided she was harmless, but he didn't like this. The last thing he needed was a police check on this car!

”I'm being deprogrammed,” she explained hastily. ”I belong to the Holy Order of Vision, and my folks sued-”

”They still deprogram religious nuts?” he asked thoughtlessly. ”I thought that went out a decade ago, along with other forms of exorcism.”

”It still happens,” she said. ”The established sects are all right-they finished their initiations years ago-but the new ones are still being persecuted.”

The rite of pa.s.sage, he thought. Any new religion had to pa.s.s through sufficient hazing to justify its existence, and when it became strong enough to fight back, as early Christianity had, it became legitimate and started hazing the religion that came next.

He shrugged. ”I don't know much about it.” Not in his business, he didn't-and he didn't care to. Religion held little interest for him, apart from morbid curiosity about the credulity of people. Still, this was a very pretty girl, who seemed somehow familiar. That flowing hair, those full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the way she spoke- He was intrigued. ”But if you really want to go back to this cult-”

”Oh, I do!” she exclaimed. ”Somehow I'll return.”

Paul made a decision. ”I'll take you there, if it's not too far out of the way.

But if you won't let me get the highway address from the travel computer-”

”I can tell you the way,” she said eagerly. Then she faced him and smiled, the expression making her glow. ”My name is Sister Beth.”

”I'm Paul Cenji.” What the h.e.l.l had he expected her name to be? This seemed to be a memory, but it unfolded at its own pace; he could not remember what had happened that day in his past, so had to live it through again.

He drove on for a while, then asked, ”How did you get caught away from your church?”

”My Station. We don't have churches as such, just centers of operation. My mother called me and told me my grandmother was dying, so I came at once. I never renounced my family ties; the Holy Order of Vision isn't like that. I wish my family belonged, too! But when I got there-”

”They grabbed you and hauled you off to the deprogramming clinic,” Paul finished for her.

”Yes. I suppose I should have suspected something, but I never thought my own mother would...” She shrugged sadly. ”But I'm sure she thought she was doing the right thing. I forgive her. They tried to talk me out of going back, and when that didn't work, they said they were going to use mnem-”

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