The high price of the contraption kept it a curiosity among the wealthy. Its Far Eastern fictions — Dark Lightning usually cast you as a contemptuous Nipponese emperor in need of wisdom, or an aged Zen monk begging sublimely in the snow — limited its appeal still further. Lately, however, the Dark Lightning idea had been revived by the growth of the personality module market. And now apparently there was an Arabic version, called Wise Counselor.
I bought both moddies, thinking that I wasn’t in a position to turn down any kind of help, friend or fantasy. For someone who once hated the idea of having his skull amped, I was sure building up a good collection of other people’s psyches.
Laila had chipped in Wise Counselor again. She gave me that tranquil smile. It was toothless, of course, and it made me shiver. “Go in safety,” she said in her nasal wail.
“Peace be upon you.” I hurried out of her shop, walked back down the Street, and passed through the gate to where the car was parked. It wasn’t far from there to the station house. Back at my desk on the third floor, I opened my briefcase. I put my two purchases, the Complete Guardian and Wise Counselor, in the rack with the others. I grabbed the green cobalt-alloy plate and slotted it into the data deck, but then I hesitated. I really didn’t feel like reading about Abu Adil yet. Instead I took Wise Counselor, unwrapped it, then reached up and chipped it in.
After a moment of dizziness, Audran saw that he was reclining on a couch, drinking a glass of lemon sherbet. Facing him on another couch was a handsome man of middle years. With a shock, he recognized the man as the Apostle of God. Quickly, Audran popped the moddy out.
I sat there at my desk, holding Wise Counselor and trembling. It wasn’t what I’d expected at all. I found the experience deeply disturbing. The quality of the vision was absolutely realistic — it wasn’t like a dream or a hallucination. It didn’t feel as if I’d only imagined it; it felt as if I’d truly been in the same room with Prophet Muhammad, blessings and peace be on him.
It should be clear that I’m not a terribly religious person. I’ve studied the faith and I have tremendous respect for its precepts and traditions, but I guess I just don’t find it convenient to practice them. That probably damns my soul for eternity, and I’ll have plenty of time in Hell to regret my laziness. Even so, I was shocked by the pure arrogance of the moddy’s manufacturer, to presume to depict the Prophet in such a way. Even illustrations in religious texts are considered idolatrous; what would a court of Islamic law make of the experience I’d just had?
Another reason I was shaken, I think, was because in the brief moment before I’d popped the moddy, I’d gotten the distinct impression that the Prophet had something intensely meaningful to tell me.
I started to toss the moddy back into my briefcase, when I had a flash of insight: The manufacturer hadn’t depicted the Prophet, after all. The visions of Wise Counselor or Dark Lightning weren’t pre-programmed vignettes written by some cynical software scribbler. The moddy was psychoactive. It evaluated my own mental and emotional states, and enabled me to create the illusion.
In that sense, I decided, it wasn’t a profane mockery of the religious experience. It was only a means of accessing my own hidden feelings. I realized I’d just made a world-class rationalization, but it made me feel a lot better. I chipped the moddy in again.
After a moment of dizziness, Audran saw that he was reclining on a couch, drinking a glass of lemon sherbet. Facing him on another couch was a handsome man of middle years. With a shock, he recognized the man as the Apostle of God.
“As-salaam alaykum,” said the Prophet.
“Wa alaykum as-salaam, yaa Hazrat,” replied Audran. He thought it was odd that he felt so comfortable in the Messenger’s presence.
“You know, “said the Prophet, “there is a source of joy that leads you to forget death, that guides you to an accord with the will of Allah.”
“I don’t know exactly what you mean, “Audran said.
Prophet Muhammad smiled. “You have heard that in my life there were many troubles, many dangers.”
“Men repeatedly conspired to kill you because of your teachings, O Apostle of Allah. You fought many battles.”
“Yes. But do you know the greatest danger I ever faced?”
Audran thought for a moment, perplexed. “You lost your father before you were born.”
“Even as you lost yours,” said the Prophet.
“You lost your mother as a child.”
“Even as you were without a mother.”
“You went into the world with no inheritance.”
The Prophet nodded. “A condition forced upon you, as well. No, none of those things were the worst, nor were the efforts of my enemies to starve me, to crush me with boulders, to burn me in my tent, or to poison my food.”
“Then, yaa Hazrat,” asked Audran, “what was the greatest danger?”
“Early in my season of preaching, the Meccans would not listen to my word. I turned to the Sardar of Tayefand asked his permission to preach there. The Sardar gave permission, but I did not know that secretly he plotted to have me attacked by his hired villains. I was badly hurt, and I fell unconscious to the ground. A friend carried me
out of Tayefand lay me beneath a shady tree. Then he went into the village again to beg for water, but no one in Tayef would give him any.”
“You were in danger of dying?”
Prophet Muhammad raised a hand. “Perhaps, but is a man not always in danger of dying? When I was again conscious, I lifted my face to Heaven and prayed, ‘O Merciful, You have instructed me to carry Your message to the people, but they will not listen to me. Perhaps it is my imperfection that prevents them from receiving Your blessing. O Lord, give me the courage to try again!’
“Then I noticed that Gabriel the Archangel lay upon the sky over Tayef, waiting for my gesture to turn the village into a blasted wasteland. I cried out in horror: ‘No, that is not the way! Allah has chosen me among men to be a blessing to Mankind, and I do not seek to chastise them. Let them live. If they do not accept my message, then perhaps their sons or their sons’ sons will.’
“That awful moment of power, when with a lifted finger I might have destroyed all of Tayefand the people who lived there, that was the greatest danger of my life.”
Audran was humbled. “Allah is indeed Most Great,” he said. He reached up and popped the moddy out.
Yipe. Wise Counselor had sifted through my subskullular impulses, then tailored a vision that both interpreted my current turmoil and suggested solutions. But what was Wise Counselor trying to tell me? I was just too dull and literal-minded to understand what it all meant. I thought it might be advising me to go up to Friedlander Bey and say, “I’ve got the power to destroy you, but I’m staying my hand out of charity.” Then Papa would be overcome with guilt, and free me of all obligations to him.
Then I realized that it couldn’t be that simple. In the first place, I didn’t have any such power to destroy him. Friedlander Bey was protected from lesser creatures like me by baraka, the almost magical presence possessed by certain great men. It would take a better person than I to lift a finger against him, even to sneak in and pour poison in his ear while he slept.