JUBAL HAD BEEN TRYING to warn Mike all the way to church; of what,Mike was not certain. He had listened, he always listened-but the landscapebelow them tugged for attention, too; he had compromised by storing whatJubal said. .Now look, boy,“ Jubal had admonished, .these Fosterites areafter your money. That’s all right, most everybody is after your money; youjust have to be firm. Your money and the prestige of having the Man fromMars join their church. They’re going to work on you-and you have to be firmabout that, too.“.Beg pardon?“.Damn it, I don’t believe you’ve been listening.“.I am sorry, Jubal.“.Well ... look at it this way. Religion is a solace to many people and it is evenconceivable that some religion, somewhere, really is Ultimate Truth. But inmany cases, being religious is merely a form of conceit. The Bible Belt faithin which I was brought up encouraged me to think that I was better than therest of the world; I was .saved’ and they were .damned’ -we were in a state ofgrace and the rest of the world were .heathens’ and by .heathen’ they meantsuch people as our brother Mahmoud. It meant that an ignorant, stupid loutwho seldom bathed and planted his corn by the phase of the Moon couldclaim to know the final answers of the Universe. That entitled him to lookdown his nose at everybody else. Our hymn book was loaded with sucharrogance-mindless, conceited, self-congratulation on how cozy we were withthe Almighty and what a high opinion he had of us and us alone, and whathell everybody else was going to catch come Judgment Day. We peddled theonly authentic brand of Lydia Pinkham’s-.
.Jubal!“ Jill said sharply. .He doesn’t grok it.“.Uh? Sorry. I got carried away. My folks tried to make a preacher out of meand missed by a narrow margin; I guess it still shows.“.It does.“.Don’t rub it in, girl. I would have made a good one if I hadn’t fallen into thefatal folly of reading anything I could lay hands on. With just a touch more selfconfidence and a liberal helping of ignorance I could have been a famousevangelist. Shucks, this place we’re headed for today would have beenknown as the .Archangel Jubal Tabernacle.’“Jill made a face. .Jubal, please! Not so soon after breakfast.“.I mean it. A confidence man knows that he’s lying; that limits his scope. Buta successful shaman ropes himself first; he believes what he says -and suchbelief is contagious; there is no limit to his scope. But I lacked the necessaryconfidence in my own infallibility; I could never become a prophet . . . just acritic-which is a poor thing at best, a sort of fourthrate prophet suffering fromdelusions of gender.“ Jubal frowned. .That’s what worries me aboutFosterites, Jill. I think that they are utterly sincere and you and I know thatMike is a sucker for sincerity.“.What do you think they’ll try to do to him?“.Convert him, of course. Then get their hands on his fortune.“.I thought you had things fixed so that nobody could do that?“.No, I just fixed it so that nobody could take it away from him against his will.
Ordinarily he couldn’t even give it away without the government stepping in.
But giving it to a church, especially a politically powerful church like theFosterites, is another matter.“.I don’t see why.“Jubal sighed. .My dear, religion is practically a null area under the law. Achurch can do anything any other human organization can do- and has norestrictions. It pays no taxes, need not publish records, is effectively immuneto search, inspection, or control-and a church is anything that calls itself achurch. Attempts have been made to distinguish between .real’ religionsentitled to these immunities and .cults.’ This can’t be done, short ofestablishing a state religion . . . which is a cure worse than the disease. Inany case, we haven’t done it, and both under what’s left of the old UnitedStates Constitution and under the Treaty of Federation, all churches areequal and equally immune-especially if they swing a big bloc of votes. If Mikeis converted to Fosterism . . . and makes a will in favor of his church . . . andthen .goes to heaven’ some sunrise, it will all be, to put it in the correcttautology, .as legal as church on Sunday.’“.Oh, dear! I thought we had him safe at last.“.There is no safety this side of the grave.“.Well ... what are you going to do about it, Jubal?“.Nothing. Just fret, that’s all.“Mike stored their conversation without any effort to grok it. He recognized thesubject as one of utter simplicity in his own language but amazingly slipperyin English. Since his failure to achieve mutual grokking on this subject, evenwith his brother Mahmoud, with his admittedly imperfect translation of the allembracingMartian concept as: .Thou art God,“ be had simply waited untilgrokking was possible. He knew that the waiting would fructify at its time; hisbrother Jill was learning his language and he would be able to explaln it toher. They would grok together.
In the meantime the scenery flowing beneath him was a never-endingdelight, and he was filled with eagerness for experience to come. Heexpected, or hoped, to meet a human Old One.
Senator Tom Boone was waiting to meet them at the landing flat. .Howdy,folks! And may the Good Lord bless you on this beautiful Sabbath. Mr. Smith,I’m happy to see you again. And you, too, Doctor.“ He took his cigar out ofhis mouth and looked at Jill. .And this little lady- didn’t I see you at thePalace?“.Yes, Senator. I’m Gillian Boardman.“.Thought so, m’dear. Are you saved?“.Uh, I guess not, Senator.“.Well, it’s never too late. We’ll be very happy to have you attend the seekers’
service in the Outer Tabernacle-I’ll find a Guardian to guide you. Mr. Smithand the Doc will be going into the Sanctuary, of course.“ The Senator lookedaround.
.Senator-.
.Uh, what, Doc?“.If Miss Boardmnan can’t go into the Sanctuary, I think we had all betterattend the seekers’ service. She’s his nurse and translator.“Boone looked slightly perturbed. .Is he ill? He doesn’t look it. And why doeshe need a translator? He speaks English-I heard him.“Jubal shrugged. .As his physician, I prefer to have a nurse to assist me, ifnecessary. Mr. Smith is not entirely adjusted to the conditions of this planet.
An interpreter may not be necessary. But why don’t you ask hint? Mike, doyou want Jill to come with you?“.Yes, Jubal.“.But- Very well, Mr. Smith.“ Boone again removed his cigar, put two fingersbetween his lips and whistled. .Cherub here!“A youngster in his early teens came dashing up. He was dressed in a shortrobe, tights, and slippers, and had what appeared to be pigeon’s wings(because they were) fastened, spread, on his shoulders. He wasbareheaded, had a crop of tight golden curls, and a sunny smile. Jill thoughtthat he was as cute as a ginger ale ad.
Boone ordered, .Fly up to the Sanctum office and tell the Warden on dutythat I want another pilgrim’s badge sent to the Sanctuary gate right away.
The word is Mars.“.’Mars,’“ the kid repeated, threw Boone a Boy Scout salute, turned and madea mighty sixty-foot leap over the heads of the crowd. Jill realized why theshort robe had looked so bulky; it concealed a personal jump harness.
.Have to be careful of those badges,“ Boone remarked. .You’d be surprisedhow many sinners would like to sneak in and sample a little of God’s Joywithout having their sins washed away first. Now we’ll just mosey along andsight-see a little while we wait for the third badge. I’m glad you folks got hereearly.“They pushed through the crowd and entered the huge building, foundthemselves in a long high hallway. Boone stopped. .I want you to noticesomething. There is economics in everything, even in the Lord’s work. Anytourist coming here, whether he attends seekers’ service or not-and servicesrun twenty-four hours a day-has to come in through here. What does he see?
These happy chances.“ Boone waved at slot machines lining both walls ofthe hall. .The bar and quick lunch is at the far end, he can’t even get a drinkof water without running this gauntlet. And let me tell you, it’s a remarkablesinner who can get that far without shedding his loose change.
.But we don’t take his money and give him nothing. Take a look-. Booneshouldered his way to a machine, tapped the woman playing it on theshoulder; she was wearing around her neck a Fosterite rosary. .Please,Daughter.“She looked up, her annoyance changed to a smile. .Certainly, Bishop.“.Bless you. You’ll note,“ Boone went on, as he fed a quarter into themachine, .that no matter whether it pays off in worldly goods or not, a sinnerplaying this machine is always rewarded with a blessing and an appropriatesouvenir text.“The machine stopped whirring and, lined up in the windows, was: GODWATCHES-YOU.
.That pays three for one,“ Boone said briskly and fished the pay-off out of thereceptacle, .and here’s your souvenir text.“ He tore a paper tab off that hadextruded from a slot, and handed it to Jill. .Keep it, little lady, and ponder it.“Jill sneaked a glance at it before putting it into her purse: .But the Sinner’sbelly is filled with filth- N.R. XXII 17“.You’ll note,“ Boone went on, .that the pay-off is in tokens, not in coin-and thebursar’s cage is clear back past the bar . . . and there is plenty of opportunitythere to make love offerings for charity and other good works. So the sinnerprobably feeds them back in . . . with a blessing each time and another text totake home. The cumulative effect is tremendous, really tremendous! Why,some of our most diligent and pious sheep got their start right here in thisroom.“.I don’t doubt it,“ agreed Jubal.
.Especially if they hit a jackpot. You understand, every combination is acomplete sentence, a blessing. All but the jackpot. That’s the three HolyEyes. I tell you, when they see those eyes all lined up and starin’ at .em andall that manna from Heaven coming down, it really makes .em think.
Sometimes they faint. Here, Mr. Smith-. Boone offered Mike one of the slugsthe machine had just paid. .Give it a whirl.“Mike hesitated. Jubal quickly took the proffered token himself- damn it, hedidn’t want the boy getting hooked by a one-armed bandit! .I’ll try it, Senator.“He fed the machine.
Mike really hadn’t intended to do anything. He had extended his time sense alittle and was gently feeling around inside the machine trying to discover whatit did and why they were stopping to look at it. But he had been too timid toplay it himself.
But when Jubal did so, Mike watched the cylinders spin around, noted thesingle eye pictured on each, and wondered what this .jackpot“ was when allthree were lined up. The word had only three meanings, so far as he knew,and none of them seemed to apply. Without really thinking about it, certainlywithout intending to cause any excitement, he slowed and stopped eachwheel so that the eyes looked out through the window.
A bell tolled, a choir sang hosannas, the machine lighted up and startedspewing slugs into the receptacle and on into a catch basin below it, in aflood. Boone looked delighted. .Well, bless you! Doc, this is your day! Here,I’ll help you-and put one back in to take the jackpot off.“ He did not wait forJubal but picked up one of the flood and fed it back in.
Mike was wondering why all this was happening, so he lined up the threeeyes again. The same events repeated, save that the flood was a meretrickle. Boone stared at the machine. .Well, I’ll be-blessedl It’s not supposedto hit twice in a row. But never mind; it did-and I’ll see that you’re paid onboth of them.“ Quickly he put a slug back in.
Mike still wanted to see why this was a .jackpot.“ The eyes lined up again.
Boone stared at them. Jill suddenly squeezed Mike’s hand and whispered,.Mike ... stop it!“.But, Jill, I was seeing-.
.Don’t talk about it. Just stop. Oh, you just wait till I get you home!“ Boonesaid slowly, .I’d hesitate to call this a miracle. Machine probably needs arepairman.“ He shouted, .Cherub here!“ and added, .We’d better take the lastone off, anyhow,“ and fed in another slug.
Without Mike’s intercession, the wheels slowed down on their own andannounced: .FOSTER-LOVES-YOU,“ and the mechanism tried, but failed, todeliver ten more slugs. A Cherub, older and with sleek black hair, came upand said, .Happy day. You need help?“.Three jackpots,“ Boone told him.
.’Three’?“.Didn’t you hear the music? Are you deef? We’ll be at the bar; fetch themoney there. And have somebody check this machine.“.Yes, Bishop.“They left the Cherub scratching his head while Boone hurried them onthrough the Happiness Room to the bar at the far end. .Got to get you out ofhere,“ Boone said jovially, .before you bankrupt the Church. Doc, are youalways that lucky?“.Always,“ Harshaw said solemnly. He had not looked at Mike and did notintend to-he told himself that he did not know that the boy had anything to dowith it . . . but he wished mightily that this ordeal were over and all of themhome again.
Boone took them to a stretch of the bar counter marked .Reserved“ and said,.This’ll do-or would the little lady like to sit down?“.This is fine.“ (-and if you call me .little lady“ just once more I’ll turn Mikeloose on you!)A bartender hurried up. .Happy day. Your usual, Bishop?“.Double. What’ll it be, Doc? And Mr. Smith? Don’t be bashful; you’re theSupreme Bishop’s guests.“.Brandy, thank you. Water on the side.“.Brandy, thank you,“ Mike repeated ... thought about it, and added, .No waterfor me, please.“ While it was true that the water of life was not the essence inthe water ceremony, nevertheless he did not wish to drink water here.
.That’s the spirits“ Boone said heartily. .That’s the proper spirit with spirits!
No water. Get it? It’s a joke.“ Re dug Jubal in the ribs. .Now what’ll it be forthe little lady? Cola? Milk for your rosy cheeks? Or do you want a real HappyDay drink with the big folks?“.Senator,“ Jill said carefully, .Would your hospitality extend to a martini?“.Would it! Best martinis in the whole world right here-we don’t use anyvermouth at all. We bless .em instead. Double martini for the little lady. Blessyou, son, and make it fast.“ He turned to the others. .We’ve just about tImefor a quick one, then pay our respects to Archangel Foster and on into theSanctuary in time to hear the Supreme Bishop.“The drinks arrived and the jackpots’ payoff. They drank with Boone’sblessing, then he wrangled in a friendly fashion with Jubal over the threehundred dollars just delivered, insisting that all three prizes belonged to Jubaleven though Boone had inserted the slugs on the second and third. Jubalsettled it by scooping up all the money and depositing it in a loveoffering bowlnear them on the bar.
Boone nodded approvingly. .That’s a mark of grace, Doc. We’ll save you yet.
Another round, folks?“Jill hoped that someone would say yes. The gin was watered, she decided,and the flavor was poor; nevertheless it was starting a small flame oftolerance in her middle. But nobody spoke up, so she trailed along as Booneled them away, up a flight of stairs, past a sign reading: POSITIVELY NOSEEKERS NOR SINNERS ALLOWED ON THIS LEVEL-THIS MEANS YOU!
Beyond the sign was a heavy grilled gate. Boone said to it: .Bishop Booneand three pilgrims, guests of the Supreme Bishop.“The gate swung open. He led them around a curved passage and into aroom.
It was a moderately large room, luxuriously appointed in a style thatreminded Jill of undertakers’ parlors, but it was filled with cheerful music. Thebasic theme seemed to be .Jingle Bells“ but a Congo beat had been addedand the arrangement so embroidered that its ancestry was not certain. Jillfound that she liked it and that it made her want to dance.
The far wall of the room was clear glass and appeared to be not even that.
Boone said briskly, .Here we are, folks-in the Presence.“ He knelt quickly,facing the empty wall. .You don’t have to kneel, you’rt pilgrims -but do so if itmakes you feel better. Most pilgrims do. And there he is just as he was whenhe was called up to Heaven.“Boone gestured with his cigar. .Don’t he look natural? Preserved by amiracle, his flesh incorruptible. That’s the very chair he used to sit in when hewrote his Messages . . . and that’s just the pose he was in when he went toHeaven. He never moved and he’s never been moved-we just built theTabernacle right around him . . . removing the old church, naturally, andpreserving its sacred stones.“ Opposite them about twenty feet away, facingthem, seated in a big arm chair remarkably like a throne, was an old man. Relooked as if he were alive - . and he reminded Jill strongly of an old goat thathad been on the farm where she had spent her childhood summers-Yes,even to the out-thrust lower lip, the cut of the whiskers, and the fierce,brooding eyes. Jill felt her skin prickle; the Archangel Foster made heruneasy. Mike said to her in Martian, .My brother, this is an Old One?“.I don’t know, Mike. They say he is.“He answered in Martian, .I do not grok an Old One here.“.I don’t know, I tell you.“.I grok wrongness.“.Mike! Remember!“.Yes, Jill.“Boone said, .What was he saying, little lady? What was your question, Mr.
Smith?“Jill said quickly, .It wasn’t anything. Senator, can I get out of here? I feelfaint.“ She glanced back at the corpse. There were billowing clouds above itand one shaft of light always cut through and sought out the face. The lightchanged enough so that the face seemed to change and the eyes seemedbright and alive.
Boone said soothingly, .It sometimes has that effect, the first time. But youought to look at him from the seekers’ gallery below us-looking up at him andwith entirely different music. Entirely. Heavy music, with subsonics in it, Ibelieve it is-reminds .em of their sins. Now this room is a Happy Thoughtsmeditation chamber for high officials of the Church-I often come here and sitand smoke a cigar for an hour if I’m feeling the least bit low.“.Please, Senator!“.Oh, certainly. You just wait outside, m’dear. Mr. Smith, you stay aslong as you like.“Jubal said, .Senator, hadn’t we best get on into the services?“They all left. Jill was shaking and squeezed Mike’s hand-she had beenscared silly that Mike might do something to that grisly exhibit-and get themall lynched, or worse.
Two guards, dressed in uniforms much like the Cherubim but more ornate,thrust crossed spears in their path when they reached the portal of theSanctuary. Boone said reprovingly, .Come, come! These pilgrims are theSupreme Bishop’s personal guests. Where are their badges?“The confusion was straightened out, the badges produced~ and with themtheir door prize numbers. A respectful usher said, .This way, Bishop,“ and ledthem up wide stairs and to a center box directly facing the stage.
Boone stood back for them to go in. .You first, little lady.“ There followed atussle of wills; Boone wanted to sit next to Mike in order to answer hisquestions. }larshaW won and Mike sat between Jill and Jiib~~l, with Booneon the aisle.
The box was roomy and luxurious, with very comfortable, self-adjustingseats, ash trays for each seat and drop tables for refreshments foldedagainst the rail in front of them. Their balcony position placed them aboutfifteen feet over the heads of the congregation and not more than a hundredfeet from the altar. In front of it a young priest was warming up the crowd,shuffling to the music and shoving his heavily muscled arms back and forth,fists clenched, like pistons. His strong bass voice joined the choir from time totime, then he would lift it in ex.hortatiofl:
.Up off your behinds! What are you waiting for? Gonna let the Devil catchyou napping’?“The aisles were very wide and a snake dance was moving down the rightaisle, across in front of the altar, and weaving back up the center aisle, feetstomping in time with the priest’s piston-like jabs and with the syncopatedchant of the choir. Clumps clump, moan! . . . clump, clump, moan! Jill felt thebeat of it and realized sheepishly that it would be fun to get into that snakedance-as more and more people were doing under the brawny young priest’staunts.
.That boy’s a corner,“ Boone said approvinglY. .I’ve team.pteached with hima few times and I can testify that he turns the crowd over to you alreadysizzlin’. The Reverend .Jug’ Jackerman-used to play left tackle for the Rams.
You’ve seen him play.“.I’m afraid not,“ Jubal admitted. .I don’t follow football.“.Really? You don’t know what you’re missing. Why, during the season mostof the faithful stay after services, eat their lunches in their pews, and watchthe game. The whole back wall behind the altar slides away and you’relooking right into the biggest stereo tank ever built~ Puts the plays right inyour lap. Better reception than you get at home-and it’s more of a thrill towatch with a crowd around you.“ He stopped and whistled. .Hey, Cherub!
Over h............