Stranger in a Strange Land

Mike let his glass be replenished. He shared none of Jill's disgust with the scene. He had been deeply troubled when he discovered that the «Old One» was mere spoiled food, but he tabled that matter and was drinking deep of the frenzy below. It was so Martian in flavor that he felt both homesick and warmly at home. No detail was Martian, all was wildly different, yet he grokked a growing-closer as real as water ceremony, in numbers and intensity that he had never met outside his own nest. He wished forlornly that someone would invite him to join that jumping up and down. His feet tingled with an urge to merge with them.

He spotted Miss Dawn Ardent — perhaps she would invite him. He did not have to recognize her by size and proportions even though she was exactly as tall as his brother Jill with almost the same shapings. But Miss Dawn Ardent had her own face, her pains and sorrows and growings graved on it under her warm smile. He wondered if Miss Dawn Ardent might some day be willing to share water. Senator Bishop Boone made him feel wary and he was glad that Jubal had not seated them side by side. But he was sorry that Miss Dawn Ardent had been sent away.

Miss Dawn Ardent did not look up. The procession carried her away.

The man on the platform raised both arms; the great cave became quieter. Suddenly he brought them down. «Who's happy?»

«WE'RE HAPPY!»

«Why?»

«God … LOVES US!»

«How d'you know?»

«FOSTER TOLD US!»

He dropped to his knees, raised one fist. «Let's hear that Lion ROAR!»

They roared and shrieked and screamed while he used his fist as a baton, raising the volume, lowering it, squeezing it to subvocal growl, then driving it to crescendo that shook the balcony. Mike wallowed in it, with ecstasy so painful that he feared he must withdraw. But Jill had told him that he must not, except in his own room; he controlled it and let the waves wash over him.

The man stood up. «Our first hymn,» he said briskly, «is sponsored by Manna Bakeries, makers of Angel Bread, the loaf of love with our Supreme Bishop's smiling face on every wrapper and containing a valuable premium coupon redeemable at your nearest neighborhood Church of the New Revelation. Brothers and Sisters, tomorrow Manna Bakeries with branches throughout the land start a giant, price-slashing sale of pre-equinox goodies. Send your child to school with a bulging box of Archangel Foster cookies, each one blessed and wrapped in an appropriate text — and pray that each goodie he gives away may lead a child of sinners nearer to the light.

«And now let's live it up with the holy words of that old favorite: “Forward, Foster's Children!” All together — »

«Forward, Foster's Chil — dren!

Smash apart your foes …

Faith our Shield and Ar — mor!

«Strike them down by rows — !»

«Second verse!»

«Make no peace with sin — ners!

God is on our side!»

Mike was so joyed that he did not try to grok words. He grokked that words were not of essence; it was a growing-closer. The dance started moving again, marchers chanting potent sounds with the choir.

After the hymn there were announcements, Heavenly messages, another commercial and awarding of door prizes. A second hymn. «Happy Faces Uplifted» was sponsored by Dat telbaum's Department Stores where the Saved Shop in Safety since no merchandise is offered which competes with a sponsored brand — a children's Happy Room in each branch supervised by a Saved sister.

The priest moved to the front of the platform and cupped his ear.

«We … want …Digby!»

«Who?»

«We — Want — DIG — BY!»

«Louder! Make him hear you!»

«We — WANT — DIG — BY!» Clap, clap, stomp, stomp! «WE — WANT — DIG — BY!» Clap, clap, stomp, stomp —

It went on and on, until the building rocked. Jubal leaned to Boone. «Much of that and you'll do what Samson did.»

«Never fear,» Boone told him, around his cigar. «Reinforced, sustained by faith. It's built to shake, designed that way. Helps.»

Lights went down, curtains parted; a blinding radiance picked out the Supreme Bishop, waving clasped hands over his head and smiling at them.

They answered with the lion's roar and he threw them kisses. On his way to the pulpit he stopped, raised one of the possessed women still writhing slowly, kissed her, lowered her gently, started on — stopped and knelt by the bony redhead. He reached behind him and a microphone was placed in his hand.

He put an arm around her shoulders, placed the pickup near her lips.

Mike could not understand her words. He did not think they were English.

The Supreme Bishop translated, interjecting it at each pause in the foaming spate.

«Archangel Foster is with us —

«He is pleased with you. Kiss the sister on your right —

«Archangel Foster loves you. Kiss the sister on your left —

«He has a message for one of you.»

The woman spoke again; Digby hesitated. «What was that? Louder, I pray you.» She muttered and screamed.