"But you've certainly witnessed Garth's healing powers," Braxton continued.
"I'm not sure what you mean by 'healing powers.' "
"Oh, I think you do. You just don't want to talk any more because I've made you uncomfortable, and you're no longer certain how to deal with me. You shouldn't feel that way. Everyone around here has witnessed Garth's healing powers; they just don't understand where his gift comes from. Like you. It occurs to me that you're now caught in a curious kind of netherworld between this world of madness and the other world of madness you come from. Garth will tell anyone who cares to listen about the Triage Parabola and the Valhalla Project. They don't believe him, but you know that everything he says is true. The fact that Garth is the Messiah is obvious, and it's just as true as the things that were done to you by Siegmund Loge. But you can't accept it."
"You're confusing two different things."
"Am I? The kind of healing power Garth displays could only come from God; there's no one else on earth who can bring about the changes in people the way he does, with a few simple words or a gesture. I believe he's healed me; because of Garth, I believe I can now escape from my maid of constant sorrows and function away from here. I'm in no hurry to prove it, and I don't even intend to tell Dr. Wong. Garth's in no hurry to carry out his mission, and his time is my time."
"What's Garth's reaction to this belief of yours that he's the Messiah?"
Again, Marl Braxton laughed. "He says I'm crazy."
Suddenly I felt a wave of affection for the other man, and my unease fell away from me. It didn't matter what he believed; what he believed might be insane, in my view, but in my view it was no more insane than the religious fantasies of millions of other people around the globe. The only difference was that the others banded together and received tax waivers.
I grinned, cocked my thumb and forefinger like a gun, pointed it at him. "There you go."
Braxton stood up and stretched. "You want another beer, Mongo?"
"I'm still working on this one. Thanks."
"You know, the proof of what Garth is can be seen in what he says and does, but it's also easy to see a pattern in Garth's life over the past few years as God was preparing him for his mission."
"What pattern?"
"First, his trials at the hands of Siegmund Loge, and then his involvement in the hunt for Veil Kendry-Archangel."
"So he's told you all about Archangel, too," I said with a sigh.
"Yes."
"You know, Marl, I just happened to be slightly involved in those matters, too."
"Yes," Braxton replied easily, "but it's also now clear that your involvement was incidental to God's plan for awakening His son. You're not the Messiah; Garth is."
"Loge's Valhalla Project and the Archangel affair had nothing to do with each other," I replied, aware that I was probably crazy for carrying on such a crazy conversation with a bona fide, card-carrying crazy man. Yet, I not only found myself liking and respecting Marl Braxton, but increasingly curious about the pathology he was now clearly displaying. I remembered Chris Yardley, and my inability to convince him that it was in his best interests not to tell everyone he met that he was Jesus. Marl Braxton's pathology was different, inasmuch as his fantasy was projected onto Garth, but I was still curious to see what effect, if any, my rebuttals of facts and common sense would have on him. The fallen D.I.A. operative with the top-secret past was intelligent and articulate; as long as he didn't suddenly decide to try and hand me my head, I found I was perfectly content to sit and discuss his nonsense with him.
"The doors of perception-true perception-were opened for Garth at the hands of Siegmund Loge," Braxton patiently explained to me as he sat back down on the edge of his bed. "The naked truth of our situation was deeply implanted in him, and it exploded into full bloom in his consciousness when you brought him Der Ring des Nibelungen."
"Marl, I had exactly the same experiences-and I'd be just as happy if I never heard the Ring again."
"Nobody ever has exactly the same experience as someone else. You were simply God's tool, your role to be Garth's companion and solace on his two great spiritual odysseys. The proof is in the fact that, even though you triumphed over Siegmund Loge, you didn't change the fact that our species was doomed. In fact, all during the time when you were resting on your parents' farm, you had to wrestle with the possibility that the two of you, with Mr. Lippitt, had doomed humanity when you destroyed Siegmund Loge."
That touched a sensitive nerve, and I slowly finished my beer before I spoke again. "What does the Archangel affair have to do with it?"
"The seeds for Garth's awakening had been sown by Siegmund Loge, but they lay fallow for years. They had to be watered by the nitrophenylpentadienal-which would have killed him, if it had not been cut off when it was. The Archangel affair not only saved his life, but provided the emotional catalyst which sent him into the holy sleep from which he awakened as the Messiah. In Garth's body, nitrophenylpentadienal became a holy substance."
"Oh, come on, Marl; this is getting more complicated than Revelations."
"The pattern is there," the other man said earnestly, "for those with eyes to see it. Like you, Siegmund Loge was a tool of God. He provided the crucible in which the soul of the son of God would be fired and reshaped. Also, he set up communes around the world. The people who were in those communes are out there, waiting; they'll know that Garth is the Messiah, and they'll form the first troops in an army of love and compassion that will change the world, and save us from extinction."
"Bullshit," I said with more feeling than I'd intended to show. "Believe me, Marl, even the Messiah wouldn't want anything to do with the people who were in those communes. I mean, I'm talking about seriously stupid, absolutely mindless people-which is why Siegmund Loge was able to suck them into his operation in the first place. I've met and talked with some of those people, Marl; you haven't. You wouldn't be able to tolerate the company of any one of them for more than five minutes. Hell, they thought Loge was the Messiah; a few of them thought Loge was God."
"Loge was a false Messiah; his true mission was to prepare the way for Garth, and this was accomplished."
I shook my head. "Garth told you you were crazy for thinking he's the Messiah. Does my brother believe any of this other business?"
"No," Marl Braxton replied easily. "In fact, he said the same things about the commune people you did."
"But that doesn't make any difference?"
"That doesn't make any difference. Garth doesn't fully understand yet."
"Then how can you be so damn sure that you understand so much? Does God speak to you?"
Something that might have been dangerous glinted for a moment in Braxton's dark eyes, then was gone. "God doesn't speak to me, Mongo," he said calmly. "In fact, God doesn't speak at all. Hearing voices is Mama's problem, not mine; my maid of constant sorrows is-was-my problem."
"Speaking of voices, Garth hardly says ten words at a time to me. Why does he spend so much time talking to everybody else?"
"Not everybody else; only those who understand pain."
"If Garth has told you about Valhalla and Archangel, then you must know that I understand a few things about pain."
"It's true that you've suffered great pain, but you've never been broken like Garth and me. For now, Garth's words are only for broken people."
"The world isn't made up of broken people, Marl. Loge's lesson-if it can be called that-is that there are far too many insensitive, stupid people in the world, and they'll destroy us all."