Martian life seemed for him to be a series of stunning revelations. He was unable to say anything for at least a minute. Then he exploded.
'Jesus Christ!'
Gulthilo looked puzzled. He realised he'd spoken in English.
'I mean,' he said in his slow Krsh, 'you went ahead and submitted my genetic chart or whatever they're called here without asking me?'
'Why should I ask?'
'Well, I'm the other partner. Shouldn't you have asked me? And what if the charts had shown a bad mismatch? Do you people go entirely by those? Aren't you allowed to make up your own minds to marry regardless of what the charts say?'
'Oh, yes. We're allowed. A few do ignore the charts. After all, there's passion, you know. You should know. But over two thousand years, the charts have proved to be 98.1 per cent correct in predicting good marriages. I didn't say ecstatic marriages. There are no such things except perhaps in the first year. Good solid marriages with a steady abiding love. But then, from what you've told me, the majority of people on Earth don't have the character for such marriages.'
'Maybe I exaggerated somewhat,' he said. 'Okay. What about the 1.9 per cent?'
'They don't have children. Somehow, they're sterile.'
'I thought your scientists could make anybody fertile?'
'Theoretically, they can. But in these cases, they can't.'
She hesitated, then pointed swiftly beyond him and dropped the hand.
'It's never been said, not publicly. But it's generally acknowledged that he's responsible for the sterility.'
Orme turned to look. 'Who? Oh, you mean him?'
Gulthilo nodded.
Orme looked incredulous. 'Come on now! Do you know what you're saying? He can prevent conception by just... what... ? Thinking? Telecontraconception?'
'I don't know how he does it. But he does. At least, we think so. How else explain it?'
'Quite possibly your scientists are responsible. Or I should say, your government.'
'Oh, no!' she said. 'No, that would be against the law.'
'And so he commits illegal acts?'
'He is the higher law.'
Orme sighed. She was naive if she thought that the chiefs of state wouldn't do anything underhanded. Or was she? After all, she knew her world better than he did. And would the government dare do anything criminal? All its members were deeply aware of the two eyes that looked down upon them from the sun and, theoretically anyway, saw everything.
'We're getting away from my question,' she said.
Orme was saved from answering. A Krsh came to him and told him that he should sit with the others in the privileged section. He was to keep silent until it was his turn to speak.
Orme touched the blonde's foot and followed the Krsh to a corner of the chamber. He sat down by Bronski and Shirazi, who looked as if they'd like to talk but didn't dare.
A few minutes later the orchestra began playing a soft slow music. Hfathon, bathed in bright light, stood in the middle of the huge room. A dozen cameramen stood at various places, looking through the eyepieces of the cases in their hands. Orme, glancing upward, saw that there were two cameramen on balconies high up on the wall. A director gave the signal; the music faded into a wail terminated by a clash of cymbals that made Orme jump.
Hfathon, smiling, began talking in Greek.
15
About eleven minutes from now, Orme thought, the satellite relay stations above Earth would be receiving this. And in stations all over the planet there would be scholars, specialists in New Testament Greek, who'd be translating as quickly as they could into their native languages. There would be some words that would puzzle them, since the known vocabulary was limited. These would have to be figured out later.
Hfathon and ten others had been learning English from their 'guests', but the lessons has been not more than an hour long and not every day. It would be a few months more before the students could speak fluently and they'd be restricted in vocabulary. Hfathon and three others, however, had a perfect standard Toronto pronunciation and would be understood by an English speaker anywhere.
Orme had suggested that he do all the talking. This would eliminate the need for interpreters. But he'd been turned down without an explanation for the rejection.
He believed that the Martians insisted upon using Koine because it helped to establish their authenticity. Terrestrials could not doubt that the Martians did know New Testament Greek and better than the Earthly scholars. This was one more item of evidence that their story was true. The Terrestrials might have rationalised that the language had been learned from Bronski. However, he was fluent only in reading it. Besides, it was too much even for the profoundly suspicious to believe that the Martians would go to the great trouble of learning Koine just to add one more layer to an already thick hoax.
Hfathon suddenly ceased talking. The orchestra played a few bars of a piece that reminded him of the opening of the overture to Beethoven's Seventh Symphony. Yeshua' ha-Meshiakh, Jesus the Christ - or a reasonable facsimile thereof, Orme thought - walked slowly to the centre of the room. Hfathon, facing him, walked backward into the shadows.
Jesus held up his hand; the music stopped. He began speaking in Greek in the deep voice that sent thrills up Orme's spine and chilled his scalp.
Orme looked around, saw no one was watching him - though hidden cameras might be focused on him - and whispered in Bronski's ear.
'What's he saying?'
Bronski turned his head and put his mouth close to Orme's ear. At the same time, he tried to watch the speaker with one eye.
'He's saying that he doesn't like to do it, but he believes that it's necessary to demonstrate his powers. He realises that such things can be faked, but he's done the same things under rigorous laboratory conditions. The films of these will be transmitted later. Of course, it's entirely possible that his people could be lying about the results. 'So, at some time later, we four will observe another demonstration and so satisfy ourselves, and Earth, that his powers are indeed what they seem to be.'
'Yes, but they'll say we were coerced to affirm them.'
'That's just what he's saying now. Oh, oh!'
'What? What?'
'He said that if this isn't enough, he will convince everybody when he comes to Earth!'
The audience said, 'Ya Yeshua!' in a low deep voice.
Orme started to say something, but a hard object poked him in the back. He turned around and saw a giant Krsh standing behind the seats. In his hand was a long wooden pole, the end of which he had thrust against Orme. The Krsh shook his head and held a finger against his lips. Orme turned away feeling as if he'd been reprimanded by an usher in church.
The figure in the blue robe in the centre of the room lifted his arms above his head. Then he levitated to about ten feet above the floor, turned slowly, his arms held out from his sides now, until he completed three circles. The orchestra began playing a wild music in a minor key.
'Just like a magic show,' Orme muttered. But this, he was convinced, was no trick.
What was the effect of Jesus's announcement that he would be coming to Earth? Consternation, of course. Especially among the statesmen and the religious. This was the most upsetting news that had ever come to Earth, and its implications were more than religious. They would reverberate throughout every field: political, religious, scientific, economic, psychological, you name it.
How many countries would allow their citizens to see this? Surely not the communist nations. The communist upper-echelon government officials would be viewing this. But they would not relay this to the populace. But word of this couldn't be kept from the masses forever and there would soon be smuggled cassettes circulating despite the most intense efforts to suppress them.