Stranger in a Strange Land

«No. Stinky taught it to me — he says it's heresy of the blackest sort. By his lights I mean. It's the word Mike translates as “Thou art God”. Mahmoud says that isn't even close to a translation. It's the universe proclaiming its self-awareness … or it's “peccavimus” with a total absence of contrition … or a dozen other things. Stinky says that he doesn't understand it even in Martian — except that it is a bad word, the worst possible in his opinion … and closer to Satan's defiance than to the blessing of God. Go on. Was that all? Just a bunch of fanatics yelling Martian?»

«Uh … Jubal, they didn't yell and it wasn't fanatical. Sometimes they barely whispered. Then it might climb a little. They did it in a rhythm, a pattern, like a cantata … yet it didn't feel rehearsed; it felt more as if they were all one person, humming whatever he felt. Jubal, you've seen Fosterites work themselves up — »

«Too much, I'm sorry to say.»

«Well, this was not that sort of frenzy; this was quiet and easy, like dropping off to sleep. It was intense all right and got steadily more so, but — Jubal, ever try a spiritualist seance?»

«I have. I've tried everything I could, Ben.»

«Then you know how tension can grow without anybody moving or saying a word. This was more like that than like a revival, or even the most sedate church service. But it wasn't mild; it packed terrific wallop.»

«The word is “Apollonian”.»

«Huh?»

«As opposed to “Dionysian”. People simplify “Apollonian” into “mild”, and “calm”, and “cool”. But “Apollonian” and “Dionysian” are two sides of one coin — a nun kneeling in her cell, holding perfectly still, can be in ecstasy more frenzied than any priestess of Pan Priapus celebrating the vernal equinox. Ecstasy is in the skull, not the setting-up exercises.» Jubal frowned. «Another error is to identify “Apollonian” with “good” — merely because our most respectable sects are Apollonian in ritual and precept. Mere prejudice. Proceed.»

«Well … things weren't as quiet as a nun's devotions. They wandered about, swapped seats, and there was necking going on — nothing more, I believe, but the lighting was low. One gal started to join us, but Patty gave her some sign … so she kissed us and left.» Ben grinned. «Kissed quite well, too. I was the only person not in a robe; I felt conspicuous. But she didn't seem to notice.

«The whole thing was casual … and yet as coordinated as a ballerina's muscles. Mike kept busy, sometimes in front, sometimes wandering among the others — once he squeezed my shoulder and kissed Patty, unhurriedly but quickly. He didn't speak. Back of where he stood when he seemed to be leading was a dingus like a big stereo tank; he used it for “miracles”, only he never used the word — at least not in English. Jubal, every church promises miracles. But it's jam yesterday and jam tomorrow.»

«Exception,» Jubal interrupted. «Many of them deliver — exempli gratia among many: Christian Scientists and Roman Catholics.»

«Catholics? You mean Lourdes?»

«I had in mind the Miracle of Transubstantiation.»

«Hmm — I can't judge that subtle a miracle. As for Christian Scientists — if I break a leg, I want a sawbones.»

«Then watch where you put your feet,» Jubal growled. «Don't bother me.»

«Wouldn't think of it. I don't want a classmate of William Harvey.»

«Harvey could reduce a fracture.»

«Yeah, but how about his classmates? Jubal, those cases you cited may be miracles — but Mike offers splashy ones. He's either an expert illusionist, or an amazing hypnotist — »

«He might be both.»

« — or he's smoothed the bugs out of closed-circuit stereovision so that it cannot be told from reality.»

«How can you rule out real miracles, Ben?»

«It's not a theory I like. Whatever he used, it was good theater. Once the lights came up and here was a black-maned lion, as stately as a guardian for library steps, and little lambs wobbling around him. The lion just blinked and yawned. Sure, Hollywood can tape such effects — but I smelled lion. However, that can be faked, too.»

«Why insist on fakery?»

«Damn it. I'm trying to be judicial!»

«Then don't lean over backwards. Try to emulate Anne.»

«I'm not Anne. I wasn't judicial at the time; I just enjoyed it, in a warm glow. Mike did a lot of guxig-ho illusions. Levitation and such. Patty slipped away toward the end after whispering to me to stay. “Michael just told them that any who do not feel ready for the next circle should now leave,” she told me.

«I said, “I had better leave.”

She said, “Oh, no, dear! You're Ninth Circle. Stay seated, I'll be back.” And she left.»

«I don't think anybody chickened out. This group was Seventh-Circlers supposed to be promoted. But I didn't notice as lights came up again … and there was Jill!