Still the rumors ran.
Did you notice that Theodosius is sitting on a stool? No robot before him has ever sat so long upon a stool. Someone told me that it is a punishment — that His Holiness has told him that, in all humility, he must perch upon a stool.
And the Old One? What's the Old One doing here? He has no business here. Do you notice how he and the cardinal stick so close together, as if they were firm, fast friends? What business has a cardinal of Vatican to be friends with a ravening beast such as the Old Ones are? I tell you there is more to all of this than meets the eye.
But another objected, saying you must remember that an Old One, this same Old One, some say, brought the dead Decker and Hubert home to Vatican, a neighborly and compassionate thing to do.
Brought them home! exclaimed another. It was the least that he could do, since more than likely he was the one who killed them in the first place.
These and other rumors. Vatican went wild.
No work was done. Crowds gathered along the perimeter of the esplanade, leaving the central area free since, by some kind of popular osmosis, it seemed to be understood that whatever was about to happen would take place out in its central area. The basilica stairs were jammed with watching robots. Wood-cutting crews, harvesters, cowherds, haulers, steam-engine operators, all dropped what they were doing and came trickling in. End of Nothing humans left their jobs and businesses and zeroed in on the basilica. Someone began ringing the bells and this continued until Theodosius got up from his stool and went storming up the stairs and put a stop to it. Even some of the Listeners, who rarely mingled with the Vatican hosts, came out to see what was going on. A hastily put-together corps of technicians, wholly without authorization, installed a huge video screen on the basilica's facade and hooked it up to one of the papal audience panels. Within minutes after the hook-up had been made, the cross-stitch visage of His Holiness appeared upon the screen, saying nothing, but joining the watch.
Nothing happened. Hours went by and nothing happened.
The crowd that had been noisy with constant chattering grew quieter as the sun went down the western sky. The tension grew.
'Could you have been mistaken? Theodosius asked the Old One. 'Could the message have been wrong?
'The message was as I gave it to you, said the Old One.
'Then something has gone wrong, said Theodosius. 'I just know something has gone wrong.
He had counted too much, he told himself, on everything going right — on his two human friends returning with word that would set Vatican on its proper track again, putting an end to the premature, infantile infatuation with Heaven and with saints.
He tried to console himself. If, in fact, everything went wrong, it would not be forever. He and some other people in the Vatican, perhaps not many, but a few, would keep the flame of hope alive. Vatican would not go down to a saintly darkness that would last forever. It would not dream the remainder of its life away. Sometime, centuries from now, people would weary of the sterile saintliness and would turn back to the search for knowledge which, in time, might lead to the true faith. And if, sometime in the far future, it should be determined that there was no true faith, that in fact it was an uncaring universe, it would be better to learn this and face it than to go on pretending that there had to be a faith.
Thinking all of this, he had bowed his head in a prayerful attitude and now he heard behind him a sudden rustle of attention. Jerking up his head, he saw what the others saw.
Jill and Tennyson stood on the esplanade, no more than a hundred feet away. Above them he caught a glimpse of a momentary glitter, as if a patch of diamond dust were shining. He wondered momentarily if the glitter might be Whisperer.
He started to rise from the stool, then sat down again with a weak-kneed knowledge something had gone wrong. For out in front of Jill and Tennyson hopped a strange monstrosity. It looked like an octopus standing on its head, and as it hopped, it made a plopping sound.
Out on the esplanade, Tennyson spoke to Whisperer.
— What the hell is going on? he asked. You brought along the Plopper.
— I just sort of grabbed hold of him at the last second, said Whisperer. When he exploded in our faces, I somehow got inside his mind, something I had not been able to do before, although I'd tried. I don't think I planned to bring him along with us, but he just sort of came.
— The last time I saw him, said Jill, he was big and fiery.
— Well, said Whisperer, it seems he got over that.
— Do you know what he is? asked Tennyson.
— I'm not entirely certain. It becomes slightly complicated. Smoky thinks he is a god, a god that he could use. Worship him and use him, paying for his help with worship, which, after all, is what you humans do as well, but in a slightly different way. Not quite so cynically, perhaps, as Smoky.
— And is he — a god I mean?
— Who's to know? Smoky thinks he is. He figures he has gotten hold of something none of the other Bubblies have and that he can use to achieve his ends. Get the right god, you know, and you can do anything. Near as I can make out, Plopper thinks he is a god as well. Which makes two of them thinking it, and where does that leave us? How many people must think a thing's a god before it truly is?
Plop, plop, plop, went Plopper.
Theodosius had risen from his stool and was walking out to meet them. The Old One spinning slowly moved along beside him. Behind them the people clustered, the robots and the humans. They jammed the staircase that ran to the basilica, they perched on every roof, they spread out as flankers on both sides of the esplanade. On the facade of the basilica, the cross-hatched face of His Holiness stared out at them.
Theodosius held out his hand to them, first to Jill, then to Tennyson.
'Welcome home, he said, 'and our heartfelt thanks for the journey that you made for us.
Plopper, bouncing madly, hopped an intricate fandango around Theodosius and the Old One.
'You, said Theodosius, speaking to Tennyson, 'have met Decker's Old One, but I doubt that Jill has met him.
'I am pleased to meet you, sir, said Jill.
The Old One wheezed and hummed and finally he said, 'It is my privilege and pleasure to have met the two of you and to welcome you back to End of Nothing.
The crowd had started slowly edging in, a close-packed semicircle about the four of them — five, if one counted Plopper.
'First of all, said Theodosius, 'Out of sheer curiosity, what is this bouncing horror you brought along with you? Does it have significance?
'Your Eminence, said Tennyson, 'I rather doubt it does.
'Then why is it along?
'You might say it got caught up in a traffic jam.
'Our intelligence is that you reached Mary's Heaven.
'Yes, we did, said Tennyson, 'and it is not Heaven. It is a research center similar to Vatican. We did not have the chance, however, to explore it. It seems we got entangled in local politics.
A robot elbowed his way through the crowd and came up to stand alongside Theodosius. Tennyson saw that it was John, the gardener.
'Dr. Tennyson, asked John, 'what proof can you offer that it is not Heaven?
'Why, no proof at all, said Tennyson, brazening it out. 'No documentary proof. Can you not accept our word? I would have thought a human's word would be enough for you.
'In a situation such as this, said John, 'no unsupported word is good enough. Not even a human's word. It seems to me you humans —
'John, said Theodosius, where is your respect?
'Your Eminence, respect is not a factor. We all are in this together.
'The Tennyson speaks the truth, said the Old One. 'He radiates the truth.
'You thought, perhaps, said John to Tennyson, ignoring the Old One, 'that this bouncing betsy you brought might serve to support your story. Pointing to it, you would ask if such a thing would be found in Heaven.