too ugly." "You are too ugly, and I am too famous," he said. "I'd have to come from their midst, anonymous, and
that is clearly impossible. No, leave them alone for a while. They'll make me over again, perhaps, or
better still, forget about me. About us. We don't have any place there." I was stunned. I sat down hard on the stone floor, and the Christ patted me on my head as He walked by. "Go back to your hiding place; live as well as you can," He said. "Our time is over."
I turned to go. When I reached the crevice, I heard. His voice behind, saying, "Do you play bridge? If you
do, find another. We need four to a table." I clambered up the crack, through the walls, and along the arches over the revelry. Not only was I not going to be popeafter an appointment by Saint Peter himself!but I couldn't convince someone much more qualified than I to assume the leadership.
It is the sign of the eternal student, I suppose, that when his wits fail him, he returns to the teacher. I returned to the copper giant. He was lost in meditation. About his feet were scattered scraps of paper
with detailed drawings of parts of the Cathedral. I waited patiently until he saw me. He turned, chin in hand, and looked me over. "Why so sad?" I shook my head. Only he could read my features and recognize my moods. "Did you take my advice below? I heard a commotion." "Mea maxima culpa," I said.
(58 of 197) The Venging "And?" I slowly, hesitantly, made my report, concluding with the refusal of the Stone Christ. The giant listened
closely without interrupting. When I was done, he stood, towering over me, and pointed with his ruler through an open portal. "Do you see that out there?" he asked. The ruler swept over the forests beyond the island, to the far green horizon. I replied that I did and waited for him to continue. He seemed to be lost in thought again. "Once there was a city where trees now grow," he said. "Artists came by the thousands, and whores, and philosophers, and academics. And when God died, all the academics and whores and artists couldn't hold the fabric of the world together. How do you expect us to succeed now?" Us? "Expectations should not determine whether one acts or not," I said, "Should they?" The giant laughed and tapped my head with the ruler. "Maybe we've been given a sign, and we just have
to learn how to interpret it correctly." I leered to show I was puzzled. "Maybe Mortdieu is really a sign that we have been weaned. We must forage for ourselves, remake the
world without help. What do you think of that?"
I was too tired to judge the merits of what he was saying, but I had never known the giant to be wrong before. "Okay. I grant that. So?" "The Stone Christ says his charge is running down. If God weans us from the old ways, we can't expect His Son to replace the nipple, can we?" "No" He hunkered next to me, his face bright. "I wondered who would really stand forth. It's obvious. He won't.
So, little one, who's the next choice?" "Me?" I asked, meekly. The giant looked me over pityingly. "No," he said after a time. "I am the next. We'reweaned !" He did a little dance, startling my beak up out
of my paws. I blinked. He grabbed my vestigial wing tips and pulled me upright. "Stand straight. Tell me more." "About what?"
(59 of 197) "Tell me all that's going on below, and whatever else you know." "I'm trying to figure out what you're saying," I protested, trembling. "Dense as stone!" Grinning, he bent over me. Then the grin went away, and he tried to look stern. "It's a grave responsibility. We must remake the world ourselves now. We must coordinate our thoughts, our dreams. Chaos won't do. What an opportunity, to be the architect of an entire universe!" He waved the ruler at the ceiling. "To build the very skies! The last world was a training ground, full of harsh rules and strictures. Now we've been told we're ready to leave that behind, move on to something more mature. Did I teach you any of the rules of architecture? I
that is clearly impossible. No, leave them alone for a while. They'll make me over again, perhaps, or
better still, forget about me. About us. We don't have any place there." I was stunned. I sat down hard on the stone floor, and the Christ patted me on my head as He walked by. "Go back to your hiding place; live as well as you can," He said. "Our time is over."
I turned to go. When I reached the crevice, I heard. His voice behind, saying, "Do you play bridge? If you
do, find another. We need four to a table." I clambered up the crack, through the walls, and along the arches over the revelry. Not only was I not going to be popeafter an appointment by Saint Peter himself!but I couldn't convince someone much more qualified than I to assume the leadership.
It is the sign of the eternal student, I suppose, that when his wits fail him, he returns to the teacher. I returned to the copper giant. He was lost in meditation. About his feet were scattered scraps of paper
with detailed drawings of parts of the Cathedral. I waited patiently until he saw me. He turned, chin in hand, and looked me over. "Why so sad?" I shook my head. Only he could read my features and recognize my moods. "Did you take my advice below? I heard a commotion." "Mea maxima culpa," I said.
(58 of 197) The Venging "And?" I slowly, hesitantly, made my report, concluding with the refusal of the Stone Christ. The giant listened
closely without interrupting. When I was done, he stood, towering over me, and pointed with his ruler through an open portal. "Do you see that out there?" he asked. The ruler swept over the forests beyond the island, to the far green horizon. I replied that I did and waited for him to continue. He seemed to be lost in thought again. "Once there was a city where trees now grow," he said. "Artists came by the thousands, and whores, and philosophers, and academics. And when God died, all the academics and whores and artists couldn't hold the fabric of the world together. How do you expect us to succeed now?" Us? "Expectations should not determine whether one acts or not," I said, "Should they?" The giant laughed and tapped my head with the ruler. "Maybe we've been given a sign, and we just have
to learn how to interpret it correctly." I leered to show I was puzzled. "Maybe Mortdieu is really a sign that we have been weaned. We must forage for ourselves, remake the
world without help. What do you think of that?"
I was too tired to judge the merits of what he was saying, but I had never known the giant to be wrong before. "Okay. I grant that. So?" "The Stone Christ says his charge is running down. If God weans us from the old ways, we can't expect His Son to replace the nipple, can we?" "No" He hunkered next to me, his face bright. "I wondered who would really stand forth. It's obvious. He won't.
So, little one, who's the next choice?" "Me?" I asked, meekly. The giant looked me over pityingly. "No," he said after a time. "I am the next. We'reweaned !" He did a little dance, startling my beak up out
of my paws. I blinked. He grabbed my vestigial wing tips and pulled me upright. "Stand straight. Tell me more." "About what?"
(59 of 197) "Tell me all that's going on below, and whatever else you know." "I'm trying to figure out what you're saying," I protested, trembling. "Dense as stone!" Grinning, he bent over me. Then the grin went away, and he tried to look stern. "It's a grave responsibility. We must remake the world ourselves now. We must coordinate our thoughts, our dreams. Chaos won't do. What an opportunity, to be the architect of an entire universe!" He waved the ruler at the ceiling. "To build the very skies! The last world was a training ground, full of harsh rules and strictures. Now we've been told we're ready to leave that behind, move on to something more mature. Did I teach you any of the rules of architecture? I
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