"But —"
"It is for your own good," Bloom told him.
"Aha! The authentic voice of the prophet!" cried Doctor Volospion. "Sir, you must be my guest!"
"You begin to irritate me, Doctor Volospion," piped Emmanuel Bloom, "with your constant references to me as a guest. I am not a guest. I am the rightful inheritor of this world, controller of the destinies of all who dwell in it, sole Saviour of your souls."
"Quite," apologized Doctor Volospion. "I should imagine, however, that your spaceship, however grandly furnished and with whatever fine amenities, palls on you as a domicile after so many centuries. Perhaps if you would allow me to put my own humble house at your disposal until a suitable palace — or temple, perhaps — can be built for you, I should be greatly flattered."
"Your feeble attempts at guile begin to irritate me, Doctor Volospion. I am Emmanuel Bloom."
"So you have told us…"
"I am Emmanuel Bloom and I can see into every soul."
"Naturally. I merely…"
"And this priestly fawning only makes me despair of you still further. If you would defy me, defy me with some dignity."
"Mr Bloom, I am simply attempting to make you welcome. Your ideas, your language, your attitudes, they are all decidedly unfashionable now. It was my intention to offer you a dwelling from which you may observe the Age at the End of Time, and make plans for its specific salvation — at your leisure."
"My plans are simple enough. They can apply to any age. I shall destroy everything. Then I shall create it afresh. Your identity will not only be preserved, it will be fully alive, perhaps for the first time since you were born."
"Most of us," Abu Thaleb wished to point out, "were not actually born at all, Mr Bloom…"
"That is immaterial. You exist now. I shall help you find yourselves."
"Most of us are content…"
"You think you are content. Are you never restless? Do you never wake from slumber recalling a dream of something lost, something finer than anything you have ever experienced before?"
"As a matter of fact I have not slept for many a long year. The fashion died, with most people, even before I became interested in elephants."
"Do not seek to confuse the issue, Abu Thaleb."
"Mr Bloom, I am confused. I have no wish to have my precious pachyderms destroyed by you. My enthusiasm is at its height. I am sure the same can be said for at least half the population, small though it is, of this planet."
"I cannot heed you," said Emmanuel Bloom, feeling in the pockets of his velvet suit. "You will be grateful when it is done."
"At least you might canvas the opinion of a few more people, Mr Bloom." Abu Thaleb begged. "I mean to say, for all I know most people might think the idea a splendid one! It would make a dramatic change, at least…"
"And besides," said Doctor Volospion, "we certainly have the means to resist you, Mr Bloom, should you begin seriously to discommode us."
Emmanuel Bloom began to stride up the ramp of his spaceship. "I am weary of all this. Woman, do you come with me now?"
Miss Ming maintained silence.
"Please reconsider, Mr Bloom," Doctor Volospion said spiritedly, "as my guest you would share the roof with many great philosophers and prophets, with messiahs and reformers of every description."
"It sounds," piped Mr Bloom, "like Hell."
"And there are things you should see. Souvenirs of a million faiths. Miraculous artefacts of every kind."
Emmanuel Bloom seemed mildly interested. "Eh?"
"Magical swords, relics, supernatural stones — my collection is justly famous."
Emmanuel Bloom continued on his way.
"You would, as well as enjoying this fabulous company, be sharing the same roof as Miss Ming, who is another guest of mine," said Doctor Volospion.
"Miss Ming comes with me. Now."
"Oh, no I don't," exclaimed Miss Ming.
"What?" Emmanuel Bloom paused again.
"Miss Ming stays with me," said Doctor Volospion. "If you wish to visit her, you may visit her at my dwelling."
"Oh, don't bother with him!" said Mavis Ming.
"You will come to me, in time, Mavis Ming," said Emmanuel Bloom.
"That's the funniest thing I've ever heard," she told him. She said to Doctor Volospion: "It's a bit insensitive of you, isn't it, Doctor Volospion, to use me as bait? Why do you want him so badly?"
Doctor Volospion ignored the question.
"You would be very comfortable at Castle Volospion," he told Mr Bloom. "Everything you could desire — food, wine, luxurious furniture, women, boys, any animal of your taste…"
"I need no luxuries and I desire only one woman. She shall be mine soon enough."
"It would make Miss Ming happy, I am sure, if you became my g— if you used my house."
"You are determined, I think, to misunderstand my mission upon this world. I have come to re-fire the Earth, as its Leader and its Hero. To restore Love and Madness and Idealism to their proper eminence. To infuse your blood with the stuff that makes it race, that makes the heart beat and the head swim! Look about you, manikin, and tell me if you see any heroes. You no longer have heroes — and you have such paltry villains!"
"It does not seem reasonable of you to judge by us three alone," said Abu Thaleb.
"Three's enough. Enough to tell the general condition of the whole. Your society is revealed in your language, your gestures, your costumes, your landscapes! Oh, how sad, how ruined, how unfulfilled you are! Ah, how you must have longed, in your secret thoughts, those thoughts hidden even from yourselves, for me to return. And look now — you still do not realize it."
He smiled benevolently down on them, standing near the entrance to his ship.
"But that realization shall dawn anon, be sure of that. You ask me to live in one of your houses — in a tomb, I say. And could I bear to leave my ship behind? My much-named ship, the Golden Hind? Or Firedrake call her, Virgin Flame — Pi-meson or the Magdelaine — sailing out of Carthage, Tyre, Old Bristol or Bombay: Captain Emmanuel Bloom, late of Jerusalem, founder of the Mayan faith, builder of pyramids, called Ra or Raleigh, dependent on your taste — Kubla Khan or Prester John, Baldur, Mithras, Zoroaster — the Sun's Fool, for I bring you Flame in which to drown! I am blooming Bloom, blunderer through the million planes — I am Bloom, the booming drum of destiny. I am Bloom — the Fireclown! Aha! Now you know me!"
The three faces stared blankly up.
He leaned with his hand against the entrance to the airlock, his head on his shoulder, his eye beady and intelligent. "Eh?"
Doctor Volospion remained uncharacteristically placatory. "Perhaps you could enlighten us over a meal? You must be hungry. We can offer the choicest foods to suit the most demanding of tastes. Please, Mr Bloom, I ask again that you reconsider…"
"No."
"You feel I have misinterpreted you, I know. But I am an earnest student. I remain a mite confused. Your penchant for metaphor…"
The Fireclown clapped a tiny hand to a tiny knee. He frowned at Doctor Volospion. "One metaphor is worth a million of your euphemisms, Doctor Volospion. I have problems to consider and must seek solitude. I have poetry to write — or to recall — I forget which — and need time for meditation. I should accept your invitation for it is my duty to broaden your mind — but that duty can wait."
He turned again to regard the woman.
"You'll join me now, Miss Ming?"
His huge blue eyes flashed suddenly with an intelligence, a humour, which shocked her completely from her hard-won composure.
"What?" The response was mindless.
He stretched out a hand. "Come with me now. I offer you pain and knowledge, lust and freedom. Hm?"
She began to rise, as if mesmerized. She seemed to be shivering. Then she sat down. "Certainly not!"