The Gods Look Down by Trevor Hoyle

how these things are possible. The past is fixed – how can we alter something which is dead and gone, no longer existing?’ He was looking at the Master Adept with a mixture of uncertainty and trepidation.
    â€˜Is it proof that you require?’ said the other softly. He lightly touched the heavy ring which adorned the index finger of his right hand. ‘Do you need to witness a demonstration?’
    â€˜I’ve seen the gold,’ the young man said hastily, not wishing to offend. ‘Meria told me that the Aleph had the power of transmutation and I’ve seen the result for myself.’
    Dagon ben Shem Tov fluttered his pale hands. ‘What is gold? I take a lump of lead, alter its inner structure and I have a bar of gold. All things have the self-same constituent parts; tampering with the structure of matter is child’s play, a jester’s trick. But tampering with the past, with the structure of time – that is a trick worthy of the gods!’
    Daneri leaned across the table which was littered with manuscripts. He said in a breath, ‘You have succeeded in this?’
    â€˜I have made progress but there have been some unfortunate setbacks …’ His dark eyes became hard and unyielding. ‘Did Meria also tell you about Angel?’
    â€˜She said that the Aleph was the cause of his deformity.’
    â€˜It was the cause of him. Angel is the result of an experiment which didn’t succeed. He was to have been the archetype of a new species.’
    â€˜You created him?’
    â€˜The Aleph created him. As I have said, all things are made up of the same constituent parts, and just as I can produce gold from base metal so it is possible to alter the structure of living tissue. The problem is not how to do it but how to succeed in creating the perfect specimen. Angel was the first abortive attempt; he is the result of an error of metabolism which can be corrected.’
    â€˜What is the purpose of this new species – the archetype you speak of?’
    â€˜To propagate the earth,’ Dagon ben Shem Tov said with a gentle smile. ‘What else?’ He seemed quietly amused at the naivety of the young initiate. ‘Have I not said that the history of ancient times is yet to be written? Do you still not understand? The first book of the
Qabalah
is complete, the second will be finished soon, in four or five years, and it’s in the third book that the Saviour will emerge to lead his people. Isn’t all this clear to you?’
    â€˜But a moment ago you said that we don’t know for sure whether a Saviour appeared on earth as foretold by the prophets.’
    â€˜Therefore,’ said Dagon ben Shem Tov with a wave of his hand, ‘I shall create one. I will create him in my own likeness and he will rise up and claim the Ark of God for himself and his followers. Do you doubt any of this?’
    â€˜I doubt nothing that you say,’ Daneri replied with total conviction. ‘If you said you could walk on water I would believe it.’
    â€˜Such cheap theatricals are for religious fanatics suffering from delusions of grandeur,’ Dagon ben Shem Tov said dismissively. ‘However, you would not be human if you didn’t require proof of some kind, a demonstration of the art of metaphysics.’ He raised his right hand and doubled it into a fist so that the heavy bronze ring, representing the sign of the
Qabalah
,was pointing upwards: the dull rich gleam of the metal formed a cluster of reflections on the moulded plaster ceiling. The young man was transfixed.
    The Master Adept stared at the ring and with each passing moment his eyes were becoming heavier and heavier until they were almost closed. He was entering into a state of self-induced trance, not unlike the calm which precedes the onset of an epileptic fit. His lips moved soundlessly and then he mumbled something which Daneri strained to catch. His face was very