"Tim," I said, "think of Wallenstein."
"I have a choice," Tim said in a low but clear voice, a voice of brisk authority, "between believing the impossible and the stupid-on the one hand-and-" He ceased speaking. "And not believing," I said.
"Wallenstein was murdered," Tim said. "No one will murder you."
"I am afraid," Tim said.
"Tim," I said, "the worst thing is the occult crap. I know. Believe me. That's what killed Kirsten. You realized that when she died; remember? You can't go back to that stuff. You will lose all the ground-
"'Better a live dog,' " Tim grated, " 'than a dead lion.' By that I mean, Better to believe in nonsense than to be realistic and skeptical and scientific and rational and die in Israel."
"Then simply don't go."
"What I need to know is there at the wadi. What I need to find. The anokhi, Angel; the mushroom. It's there somewhere and that mushroom is Christ. The real Christ, whom Jesus spoke for. Jesus was the messenger of the anokhi which is the true holy power, the true source. I want to see it; I want to find it. It grows in the caves. I know it does."
I said, "It once did."
"It is there now. Christ is there now. Christ has the power to break the hold of fate. The only way I'm going to survive is if someone breaks the hold of fate and releases me; otherwise, I will follow Jeff and Kirsten. That's what Christ does; he unseats the ancient planetary powers. Paul mentions that in his Captivity Letters ... Christ rises from sphere to sphere." Again his voice trailed off, bleakly.
"You're talking about magic."
"I'm talking about God!"
"God is everywhere."
"God is at the wadi. The Parousia, the Divine Presence. It was there for the Zadokites; it is there now. The power of fate is, in essence, the power of world, and only God, expressed as Christ, can burst the power of world. It's inscribed in the Book of the Spinners that I will die, except that Christ's blood and body save me." He explained, "The Zadokite Documents speak of a book in which the future of every human is written from before Creation. The Book of the Spinners; it's something like Torah. The Spinners are fate personified, like the Norns in Germanic mythology. They weave men's fortunes. Christ, alone, acting for God here on Earth, seizes the Book of the Spinners, reads it, carries the information to the person, informs him of his fate, and then, through his absolute wisdom, Christ instructs the person on the way his fate can be avoided. The road out." He was silent, then. "We'd better order. There are people waiting."
I said, "Prometheus stealing fire for man, the secret of fire; Christ seizing the Book of the Spinners, reading it and then carrying the information to man to save him."
"Yes." Tim nodded. "It's roughly the same myth. Except that this is no myth; Christ really exists. As a spirit, there at the wadi. "
"I can't go with you," I said, "and I'm sorry. You'll have to go by yourself and then you'll see that Dr. Garret is pandering to your fears the way she pandered to-and viciously exploited- Kirsten's fears."
"You could drive me."
"There are drivers there in Israel who know the desert. I don't know anything about the Dead Sea Desert."
"You have an excellent sense of direction."
"I get lost. I am lost. I'm lost now. I wish I could go with you but I have my job and my life and my friends; I don't want to leave Berkeley-it's my home. I'm sorry but that's God's truth. Berkeley is where I've always lived. I'm just not ready to leave it at this time. Maybe later." My martini came; I drank it down, all at once, in a spasmodic gulp that left me panting.
Tim said, "The anokhi is the pure consciousness of God. It is, therefore, Hagia Sophia, God's Wisdom. Only that wisdom, which is absolute, can read the Book of the Spinners. It can't change what is written, but it can discern a way to outwit the Book. The writing is fixed; it will never change." He seemed defeated, now; he had begun to give up. "I need that wisdom, Angel. Nothing less will do."
"You are like Satan," I said, and then realized that the gin had hit me in a rush; I had not meant to say that.
"No," Tim said, and then he nodded. "Yes, I am. You're right.
"I'm sorry I said that," I said.
"I don't want to be killed off like an animal. If the writing can be read, then an answer can be figured out; Christ has the power to figure it out, Hagia Sophia-Christ. They're homologized from the Old Testament hypostasis to the New." But, I could see, he had given up; he could not budge me and he knew it. "Why not, Angel?" he said. "Why won't you come?"
"Because," I said, "I don't want to die there in the Dead Sea Desert."
"All right. I'll go alone."
"Someone should survive all this," I said.
Tim nodded. "I would want you to survive, Angel. So stay here. I apologize for-"
"Just forgive me," I said.
He smiled wanly. "You could ride on a camel."
"They smell bad," I said. "Or so I've heard."
"If I find the anokhi I will have access to God's wisdom. After it has been absent from the world for over two thousand years. That is what the Zadokite Documents speak of, that wisdom that we once had open to us. Think what it would mean!"
The waiter approached our table and asked us if we were ready to order. I said I was; Tim glanced about him in confusion, as if just now aware of his surroundings. It made my heart ache to see his bewilderment. But I had made up my mind. My life, as it was constituted, meant too much for me; most of all, I feared involvement with this man: it had cost Kirsten her life, and, in a subtle way, my husband's. I wanted that all behind me; I had started over; I no longer looked back.
Wanly, without enthusiasm, Tim told the waiter what to bring him; he seemed oblivious of me, now, as if I had faded into the surroundings. I turned to my own menu, and saw there what I wanted. What I wanted was immediate, fixed, real, tangible: it lay in this world and it could be touched and grasped; it had to do with my house and my job, and it had to do with banishing ideas finally from my mind, ideas about other ideas, an infinite regress of them, spiraling off forever.
The food, when the waiter brought it, tasted wonderful. Both Tim and I ate with pleasure. My customers had been right.
"Mad at me?" I said, after we had finished.
"No. Happy because you will survive this. And you will stay as you are." He pointed at me, then, with a commanding expression on his face. "But if I find what I am after, I will change. I will not be as I am. I have read all the documents and the answer isn't in them; the documents point to the answer and they point to the location of the answer, but the answer is not in them. It is at the wadi. I am taking a risk but it's worth it. I am willing to take the risk because I may find the anokhi and just knowing that makes it worth it."
I said suddenly, with insight, "There haven't been any more phenomena."
"True."'
"And you didn't go back to Dr. Garret."
"True." He did not seem contrite or embarrassed. "That was to get me to come with you."
"I want you along. So you can drive me. Otherwise-I'm afraid I won't find what I'm looking for." He smiled.
"Shit," I said. "I believed you."
"I have had dreams," Tim said. "Disturbing dreams. But no pins under my fingernails. No singed hair. No stopped clocks."
I said, falteringly, "You wanted me to come with you that badly." For a moment I felt a surge in me, a need to go. "You think it would be good for me, too," I said, then.
"Yes. But you won't come. That's clear. Well-" He smiled his old familiar, wise smile. "I tried."
"Am I in a rut, then? Living in Berkeley?"
"Professional student," Tim said.
"I run a record store."
"Your customers are students and faculty. You're still tied to the university. You haven't broken the cord. Until you do, you will not fully be an adult."
"I was born the night I drank bourbon and read the Commedia. When I had that abscessed tooth."