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"Ah, Brother Dov, so good of you to visit us," Reverend Everything
said, shepherding Dov through the towering doors of the sanctuary.
"What a pity that it has to be under these grievous circumstances. I
still recall the day that your dear mother approached me about
affiliating the United Mithraic Order with E. Godz, Inc. Why, it seems
as if it were only yester-"
"Uh, excuse me?" Dov paused beneath a tapestry depicting the
Reverend Everything, dressed as an Aztec emperor, slaying a hydra
whose wings were clearly labeled disunion and negativity. "The
United what?"
"The United Mithraic Order," the Reverend Everything repeated
affably enough. "That was what we called our congregation in those
days. Ah, simple, humble beginnings! Not quite so simple once your
dear mother provided us with the methods for channeling our
collective zeal into tangible power, not to mention her invaluable
advice in matters concerning what we need and need not pay the
government."
He walked on, Dov by his side, until they reached another pair of
doors, these adorned with quilted panels made from pieces of gold
lamé, burgundy-hued crushed velvet, bronze-shot turquoise brocade,
sea-green silk, kingfisher-blue moiré, and silver point-lace.
"Holy Seventh Avenue!" Ammi exclaimed. "I knew that Libe
race was dead, but I never knew they skinned him for his hide!"
"And what might this be, Brother Dov?" Reverend Everything asked
suavely, bending low to peer at the little amulet. "My, my. I had one
just like this on the fax machine for the Blessed Keepers of the Holy
Actualization-that was the name of our divine mission about two
years ago. It was a gift from Edwina. Why do you carry it around with
you?"
"Oh, he-it's a later model with more technological capabilities than
simple fax interfacing," Dov said a little too quickly, a little too glibly.
"I see." Reverend Everything smiled and patted Dov on the shoulder.
"There, there, son. We all get lonely at the top." He opened the doors
with a dramatic flourish just as he added: "But we all find our ways to
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make do."
The full glory of the inmost sanctuary of the Serene Temple of
Unfailing Lifescores burst upon them with the impact of a Fourth of
July fireworks extravaganza. Row after row of plexiglass pews filled
the chamber, sparkling beneath the battery of complexion-flattering
pink lights on high. A raised platform stood at the end of the white-
carpeted aisle that looked about as long as a football field. Twin choirs
of fresh-faced young men and women with flowered sarongs wrapped
around their lissome bodies stood ranging all up and down the length
of a pair of airy spiral staircases, the banisters draped with luxuriant
vines. They burst into song as soon as their leader noted the
Reverend's entrance. Exotic blossoms were everywhere, and Dov
could have sworn he heard the soft calls of tropical birds and
monkeys echoing through the sanctuary. Somewhere a steel drum
band was playing a Shaker hymn.
Dov was surprised, but not by the splashy display itself. The
last he'd heard, the Reverend Everything's church had been decorated
to resemble the grand saloon of the Titanic, with authentic early-
twentieth-century costumes available for rental by the congregation
upon receipt of an "offering." What sort of costume you were issued
certainly did not depend on the amount of your donation, but it was
an amazing coincidence how readily the Reverend's friendly
Mistresses of the Sanctified Wardrobe could discover that, if you were
a parsimonious giver, the only costumes left in your size were suitable
for steerage passengers. On the other hand, more open-handed
donors inevitably took their seats dressed in period evening gowns
and tuxedos, fully accessorized.
It really was astonishing how it always worked out that way.
"This isn't what I was expecting," Dov murmured to his host as they
made their way up the aisle.
"Oh, I had a spiritual evolution about three weeks ago," Reverend
Everything confided. "Rather than remind the faithful of how, while
our lives may appear to be unsinkable luxury vessels designed to take
us to our ultimate destination, there's always the unexpected spiritual
iceberg, I realized that our lives are really more like the vast and
powerful Aztec Empire. Are they not rich? Does not every person
command some sort of power over his inferiors? And nevertheless,
are we not vulnerable to losing everything at a moment's notice if we
continue to live heedlessly?"
"So where does stuff like 'fengsama' and 'Elysians' fit into all this?
Brytanni said-" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]