As we drove towards the spaceport I found myself scowling as I grew more and more angry
"Rrrrr …" I finally said.
"That was a pretty fair growl, Dad. You wouldn't care to expand upon it?"
"I would—and I shall! I'm angry, James—and growing angrier by the minute. There are a lot mysteries here—but one thing is not mysterious at all. This con man and his fake church are raising the wrath in me."
"I thought you had a soft spot for cons and scams?"
"I do—~but only when it comes to bilking the filthy rich. I don't con widows or orphans or those who can't afford it. And I work for money. Good old green, the folding and golden stuff…"
"I get you now," James said, his angry scowl matching mine. "You're for a good clean con, taking money from the rich and giving it to the slightly less rich. Namely you. But no one gets hurt in the process."
"Exactly! There is money involved in this con, sure, but there is also belief. This fake guru is trampling about where he doesn't belong. In people's beliefs, their most intimate feelings. In the matter of religion it is live and let live, I say. I tell no one what to believe. I even listen carefully to sincere beliefs, no matter how nutsy they sound. But Slakey—Fanyimadu is playing with fire. Preaching fakery, using machines to con the unsuspecting into believing in an afterlife that in this case can't possibly be true. If Heaven is the place you go after you die,—well there is only one way of getting there. Guided tours for a quick inspection are just not in order. What is going on here is very dirty and could be very hurtful as well. If he were showing his unsuspecting marks a real Heaven they would go to, well fine. He would only be depriving them of their money, which is a wonderful and noble thing to do. But he is depriving them of their individuality and their trust. He is lying to them, preying upon their fear of death. When they discover what has been done to them they will be hurt, shattered, emotionally destroyed. Whatever else happens—he must be stopped."
We growled in unison as we pulled up at the arrivals terminal. Bolivar waved and opened the door. Tanned by UV and still wearing his spacer's gear, we brought him up to date during the drive home. Once in the house I felt a twinge of appetite. I glanced through the autocook menu with little enthusiasm, unadventurously punched up three of my usual aardvark steak and fries. Silently wishing that I had been ordering for four—a banquet of exotica had that been the case.
"Very well done, Dad, you're quite a cook," Bolivar said pushing away his plate and untouched glass of wine. "It has been dehydrated—rehydrated space rations for far too long. I have been thinking of eating their wrappings, which would probably taste better than their contents. So, time to get down to work..
At this precise moment as the clock struck the hour, the central computer terminal buzzed, while its screen lit up with Angelina's image.
"I've left this recording for you, Jim," she said, andmy heart, which had leaped up into my throat, settled slowly back to its usual position. "I'm off to church soon, for what promises to be an interesting experience. I don't believe any of the guff this meandering idiot Fanyimadu has been feeding us—but I do know that something most interesting is happening. Physical travel of some kind and, I suspect, it may be offplanet. I can't tell you more right now since lam going mostly on guesswork and, don't laugh, intuition. It will be dangerous, but I'm going prepared. So if you lose track of me for a bit—don't lose hope. Bye."
She blew a kiss in my direction and the recording clicked off.
"Did she say offplanet?" Bolivar asked. I nodded. "Let's play it again."
We did. And when it ended a second time my mind was made up. "She said offplanet—and she meant it. Any ideas?"
"Plenty," Bolivar said. "Let us forget Slakey, as you suggested, Dad. The police can search the police files without our help. But this recording tells us things they don't know. Offplanet covers a lot of space—and so will, we. We must start searching the galactic records. We have to find this Temple of Eternal Truth when it surfaces again—under any other name or guise. We list the characteristics it must have and get our search agencies to digging into the records."
"Exactly so," I agreed. "We will be looking for the modus operandi,"
"I'm not so great on the old dead languages, Dad," Bolivar said. "But if you mean we will track down this joker and that nutsy religion I am for it!"
"That's the idea. It may very well have a different name, and different ways of bringing in the suckers—but the operating basis will be the same."
"What is that?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. You'll have to work it out as you go along."
"And we search in the past as well as the future," James said. "There is no reason that this church should be confined to just this one planet, and every reason to believe that it isn't."
"Too right," Bolivar agreed. "That goes into the searchplan."
I was proud of my boys. They were taking over, plowing ahead without a moment lost. As for me, I wasn't that rusty an old rat—not yet.
But it was nice to see a couple of shiny young ones sharpening their teeth.
They started at once, putting the search operation into effect. Dividing up the planets between them and working out in an ever—expanding sphere of communication and interrogation. I left them to it. Found a cold beer, took it to my study and whistled at my computer terminal to turn it on. I sipped the beer while I surfed through various data bases, zeroing in on Religion. I needed to know more about this Heaven and Hell business. I found what I needed under Eschatology. It was all about future life after death and was all very confusing. Down through the ages there have been a bewildering variety of beliefs held by an even more bewildering variety of social groups. Sometimes future life was seen as a continuation of present life, under more or less favorable conditions. Though at other times retribution for sins or evil deeds made this future life the very opposite of the one we know. I boned up on Heaven and Paradise, then went on to Hell, Hades, and Sheol. All very complex and very much at loggerheads, one religion with the other. Though not all of them. A lot of them were very derivative and borrowed bits and pieces from each other. My head was beginning to ache.
But out of all the confusing theorizing and philosophizing one thing was very clear. This was very heavy stuff. A matter of life—and then death. The earliest religions were obviously pre—science. They had to be because they made no attempts to consider reality, but were based purely on emotions. A desire to find some solutions to the problems of existence. When science finally appeared on the scene these religions should have been replaced by observation and reason. That they were not was sure proof of mankind's ability to believe two mutually exclusive things at the same time.
It had been a very long day and I found my eyes first glazing then closing as the multicolored aspects of future life passed before me. Enough! I yawned and headed for bed. A well—rested rat would be of far more use than an exhausted one with wilting whiskers. I crashed and ten seconds—or ten hours—later I blinked up blearily at the figure shaking my shoulder.
"James…?"
"It's Bolivar, Dad. We've found another Temple of Eternal Truth."
I was wide awake and standing next to the bed, almost in eyeball contact. "Not under the same name?"
"Nowhere close. This one is The Seekers of the Way. No names, books, or characters are the same as in the Temple of Eternal Truth. But they are identical if you do a semiotic comparison." "Where?"
"Not that far. Planet named Vulkanu. Mining and heavy industry for the most part. But it does have an attractive tropical archipelago that is devoted only to holiday making and retirement homes. Apparently so fascinating that it draws customers from all the nearby star systems."
"We leave—" "As soon as you're packed. Tickets waiting at the—shuttle flight. One hour to liftoff."