many do, not only would we be bereft of our answer, we should be in bad repute back on Earth.”
Sobering thoughts! The Reverend Mother Mary had warned him that religious scholars had lost their minds or died exploring this phenomenon; this was the confirmation. Still, he protested, “I would not want you to be in bad repute, but—”
He was interrupted by Siltz’s snort of laughter at the notion that planetary repute was more important to him than his own life. “But I understand that predatory animals avoid Animations.”
“They do. But what protects you from the Animations themselves?”
“As I understand it, these are merely controlled visions—visible imagination. There would, of course, be no physical—”
Reverend Siltz shook his head emphatically. “They are physical! And it will be a physical God you meet, whether he be valid or invalid. You will see.”
Physical imagination? There had to be some sort of confusion here! Of course there had been suggestions of this in his briefing on Earth, but he had tended to dismiss such notions as exaggerations. “I am afraid I don’t—”
The Reverend raised a hand. “You will ascertain this for yourself in due course. I do not wish to violate the spirit of the Covenant, though I fear I have already compromised the letter of it. Now we must go before the storm comes.”
Even as the man spoke, Brother Paul heard the imperative rumble of thunder. “Where are we going?”
“To the communal lunch. It is more efficient than home cooking, and provides for a fairer allocation of food, so we do it in summer.” Naturally a Communist would feel that way! “Storm time is good eating time, since we cannot then work outside.”
“Your wife—isn’t she coming too?”
“She is not. She eats at another shift, as does my son. I am relieved of my community labors for the duration of your stay; my labor is to attend to you. Now I must see that you are properly fed. Come, I have delayed too long. I neglect my responsibility. We must hurry.”
They hurried. Outside, Brother Paul saw the ponderously looming clouds coming in over the lake from the east, so dense that they seemed like bubbles of lava in the sky. By some freak of the local system, the wind was coming from right angles, from the north, and it looked as though rain were already falling on the wheatfield to the west. The clouds, then, must be only the most visible portion of the storm; the outer swirls of it were already upon the village. Indeed, now he spied flashes of color—Tarot Bubbles borne on the wind, popping frequently but in such great numbers that they decorated the sky. What a pretty effect!
“Too late,” Reverend Siltz said. “Yet I am remiss if I do not bring you to the others. We shall have to use the cups.”
“I can stand a little rain,” Brother Paul said. He rather liked bold storms; they showed the power of nature vividly.
But the man was already diving back into the house. “It is not merely water,” he called from inside. “Bigfoot lurks in rain and snow.”
Bigfoot? Brother Paul knew of the legends back on Earth of Yeti, Sasquatch, Abominable Snowman, Skunk Ape, and Bugbear; in fact he was somewhat of a fan of Bigfoot. With the cultural and technological regression Earth had suffered as a result of the depopulation of emigration, these legends had increased in number and force. He believed that most sightings of huge manlike monsters were merely distortions of straggling, perhaps ill human beings. An unkempt, ragged, wild-haired, dirty and desperate man could be a sight to frighten anyone, particularly when he was glimpsed only at dusk as he skulked in his search for food. Whether any nonhuman monsters existed—well, who could say? But Brother Paul hoped they did; it would certainly make Earth more interesting.
Reverend Siltz emerged with an armful of panels. Quickly he assembled two wooden hemispheres, each about a meter in diameter and girt by wicked-looking wooden
Sobering thoughts! The Reverend Mother Mary had warned him that religious scholars had lost their minds or died exploring this phenomenon; this was the confirmation. Still, he protested, “I would not want you to be in bad repute, but—”
He was interrupted by Siltz’s snort of laughter at the notion that planetary repute was more important to him than his own life. “But I understand that predatory animals avoid Animations.”
“They do. But what protects you from the Animations themselves?”
“As I understand it, these are merely controlled visions—visible imagination. There would, of course, be no physical—”
Reverend Siltz shook his head emphatically. “They are physical! And it will be a physical God you meet, whether he be valid or invalid. You will see.”
Physical imagination? There had to be some sort of confusion here! Of course there had been suggestions of this in his briefing on Earth, but he had tended to dismiss such notions as exaggerations. “I am afraid I don’t—”
The Reverend raised a hand. “You will ascertain this for yourself in due course. I do not wish to violate the spirit of the Covenant, though I fear I have already compromised the letter of it. Now we must go before the storm comes.”
Even as the man spoke, Brother Paul heard the imperative rumble of thunder. “Where are we going?”
“To the communal lunch. It is more efficient than home cooking, and provides for a fairer allocation of food, so we do it in summer.” Naturally a Communist would feel that way! “Storm time is good eating time, since we cannot then work outside.”
“Your wife—isn’t she coming too?”
“She is not. She eats at another shift, as does my son. I am relieved of my community labors for the duration of your stay; my labor is to attend to you. Now I must see that you are properly fed. Come, I have delayed too long. I neglect my responsibility. We must hurry.”
They hurried. Outside, Brother Paul saw the ponderously looming clouds coming in over the lake from the east, so dense that they seemed like bubbles of lava in the sky. By some freak of the local system, the wind was coming from right angles, from the north, and it looked as though rain were already falling on the wheatfield to the west. The clouds, then, must be only the most visible portion of the storm; the outer swirls of it were already upon the village. Indeed, now he spied flashes of color—Tarot Bubbles borne on the wind, popping frequently but in such great numbers that they decorated the sky. What a pretty effect!
“Too late,” Reverend Siltz said. “Yet I am remiss if I do not bring you to the others. We shall have to use the cups.”
“I can stand a little rain,” Brother Paul said. He rather liked bold storms; they showed the power of nature vividly.
But the man was already diving back into the house. “It is not merely water,” he called from inside. “Bigfoot lurks in rain and snow.”
Bigfoot? Brother Paul knew of the legends back on Earth of Yeti, Sasquatch, Abominable Snowman, Skunk Ape, and Bugbear; in fact he was somewhat of a fan of Bigfoot. With the cultural and technological regression Earth had suffered as a result of the depopulation of emigration, these legends had increased in number and force. He believed that most sightings of huge manlike monsters were merely distortions of straggling, perhaps ill human beings. An unkempt, ragged, wild-haired, dirty and desperate man could be a sight to frighten anyone, particularly when he was glimpsed only at dusk as he skulked in his search for food. Whether any nonhuman monsters existed—well, who could say? But Brother Paul hoped they did; it would certainly make Earth more interesting.
Reverend Siltz emerged with an armful of panels. Quickly he assembled two wooden hemispheres, each about a meter in diameter and girt by wicked-looking wooden
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