“Miracles,” said Kathy, who was picking up the game quickly. “You know, like when water flows upstream and injuries heal.”
Dave nodded grimly.
This time, Marcus Gentry made a call without shutting off the speaker. “Mr. Shelton, this is Marcus Gentry at the loading dock. I have two people who came to see Mr. Routledge but he is unavailable. His secretary suggested I contact someone in the pertinent division, and that’s yours… May I send them back? Thank you.” He pressed another button.
Next to the booth, the lock on a heavy steel door clicked open.
“Come on in,” said Marcus Gentry. “Mr. Cary Shelton is waiting for you in 0124.”
“Thanks.” A little embarrassed that their lies had worked, Dave pulled open the door and held it for Kathy, who preceded him. Then they walked down a clean, carpeted hallway lined with office doors, most of them closed.
Dave still saw no sign of any church. When he passed open doors, he found small cubbyhole offices and rooms full of computer video equipment. Kathy located the office they wanted, where the door stood open. She waited for Dave to go in first.
In the office, an untidy young fellow blinked up at them from a bank of video monitors in one of the cubbyholes. He was a tousled carrot-head with a freckly face, wearing jeans and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up. A half-eaten ham sandwich lay on a paper plate at his elbow with a coffee cup beside it. Stickynotes papered his desk and his board. It was all typical computer stuff, nothing religious in sight. Dave didn’t even see a Bible.
“Siddown, folks. I’m Cary Shelton.” He took a bite out of his sandwich. “You have something to leave for Routledge? I wasn’t sure what ol’ Marcus was talking about, but Nate doesn’t know computer imaging from red clay.”
“Not exactly,” said Dave uncomfortably. “We’re a little confused.” He looked at Kathy. “I think we better tell him the whole story. I’m Dave Kiefer and this is my sister, Kathy.”
Kathy spoke up suddenly, her explanation of Trippy’s condition and their visit coming out in an emotional rush. She held her Bible tightly in her lap with both hands, her anxiety speaking for both of them. Then she finished with the mystery: Where was the Fellowship? The Church?
Cary sighed and put down his sandwich again, saying nothing.
Dave tensed, waiting to hear if he could help them.
“So you see, we really need to see the Rev’ren’ Jason,” Kathy prodded. “We need his help.”
“Well.” Cary Shelton sighed again. “Yeah, uh… there’s a problem.”
“Yeah?” Dave felt a flash of angry impatience. “Nobody is so busy he can’t spare a minute. She told you, it’s my son.”
“Yeah.” Cary looked sincerely pained. “Look, because of your son’s condition, I’m going to let you in on something. I hope you won’t spread this around, but—you’ve seen the movie, The Wizard of Oz?”
Dave and Kathy exchanged a look.
“Yeah?” Dave said suspiciously.
“Well, remember, ‘Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain’? It’s like that here. I’m one of the men behind the curtain.”
“I don’t get it,” said Kathy.
“In short, there is no Reverend Jason Matthew Wayne.”
“Oh, come on, we even talked to him on the phone,” Dave said angrily. “We had that hologram visit you guys advertise. He came and talked to us. You don’t have to give us this runaround. Tell me where to find him and we’ll leave you alone.”
“I understand he visited you.” Cary nodded gently. “By computer simulations, like the holorecepetionist out front.”
“But he doesn’t just talk business; I mean, he answered us.” Dave heard his own voice rise in a desperate whine.
“Did he give you any advice?” Cary Shelton rocked back in his chair and looked at them imperviously.
“Well, no, he couldn’t do that, of course—”
“You bet he didn’t. He’s programmed not to; we could get sued if he did.”
Dave felt a hollow, sinking feeling.
Computers, holograms, imaging… “You’re serious,” he said faintly.
“Yeah. Look, the Reverend was put together from three old-time twentieth century actors. We figured people would be less likely to recognize them—also, they’re in public domain now. We got his physique from Charlton Heston when he was young. Look.”
Cary turned to his board and punched numbers for several seconds. Then he turned to the corner and the holo projector there threw up the image of a muscular young man standing on a raft on water, wearing only a ragged loincloth and chains on his ankle. An older man lay on the raft.
Dave was no expert on male physique, but the standing guy was as well built as the Reverend, for sure. The similarity was clear. He glanced in shock at Kathy.
Kathy looked stricken.
“We got the hair and that big smile, and the voice, from Burt Lancaster when he was young.” Cary hit a few more keys.
The image of a very handsome man, wearing only tight, striped pants, swung up to a yardarm on a rope, against a bright blue sky next to Heston. Then he turned and smiled at them. The full wavy head of brown hair and the big-toothed smile were much like those of the Reverend.
“It’s not quite the same, though,” Dave said.
“Well, we adapted that jaw from Henry Fonda.”
Another man’s image appeared next to the others, a stranger wearing a casual blue uniform of some sort, walking the deck of an old steel ship. His long, firm jaw certainly looked much like that of the Reverend. Before their eyes, Cary overlaid the three images; as they watched, the images smoothly melted together. The Reverend Jason Matthew Wayne smiled at them.
Kathy let out a long, nearly-silent breath. “Oh, my…”
“The Merciful Sisters of Melody are purely fictional also,” said Cary. “So are all the congregation.”
“Wait a minute!” Kathy cried. “What about the miracles? We see miracles every day—people healed, and all. Is that all fake, too?”
“We hope not. You know, of course, that the illustrations we run in the background are video simulations?”
“Yeah, they’re like old paintings and Bible pictures,” said Dave. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “But… the miracles, too?”
“Well, the Reverend appears by phone and prays for anybody. We get lots of mail describing miraculous healing. We call those people up and get them to sign releases before we use their stories on the show. But all the names are real, even though we don’t always use the pictures; our simulations look better than real people. Yeah, the videos are faked—that is, dramatized with computer imaging. But those people tell us that the miracles really happened.”
Dave’s head ached. He rubbed his eyes. Those miracles they had seen so often had not occurred right in front of them. “They might not have occurred at all,” he said angrily.
“If they lied to us, they’re guilty of fraud. We’re covered by the releases, and we say up front that it’s simulated.”
“That’s right, they do, in that strip running across the bottom,” Kathy said, subdued.
Dave saw that she was practically in shock. Her face was pale and her mouth open. He thought she might cry.
“Then the Fellowship Church is all a fraud!” he said angrily.
The computer nerd looked at him. “We don’t feel that way. In fact, we think the Reverend is less fraudulent than many evangelists. We take care never to say or do anything that violates the FCC codes, or the mail fraud statutes; we never pretend to foster orphans, for instance, and then pocket the money people send for them. All of us here are on salary, and every penny that comes in is accounted for.”
“But you charge for interviews with the phony Reverend! You’re selling religion!”