The angel stared out of the TV screen, his eyes seemed to fix on hers, and his words had seemed meant only for her ears. The message of redemption he passed to her was the spiritual lifeline Ursula had been waiting for, and it showed her there was still a chance of redemption.
The Lord had not forgotten her. She was not abandoned.
Immediately following the interview, Ursula had called the number displayed at the bottom of the screen and spoken to a woman who told her the address of the nearest location of a branch of the Angel’s church. Throwing on her overcoat, she had left the apartment, not even bothering to turn off her TV set, such was her enthusiasm and excitement.
The man-angel’s name was Father Edward Pike, leader of the Church of Second Redemption.
Now, as Ursula slumped at her desk, her head still reeling from the information she had just learned from her boss, she quickly tapped in the number of her local church representative and arranged a meeting for that very afternoon to pass on the terrible news.
Thirty-Two
Do not think I came to put peace upon the earth;
I came to put, not peace, but a sword.
“Are you aware, that the instance you die, your body loses twenty-one grams of weight?” The questioning voice of Father Edward Pike wafted pleasingly through the stark room like a cool breeze on a warm day. “That’s the weight of a hummingbird.” The priest’s voice took on a tone of childlike awe as he continued, “Amazing isn’t it, the wonder of God’s creation. Truly amazing.”
The spiritual leader of the Church of Second Redemption regarded the only other person in the room with a serene smile. Seated across the simple wooden table, the other man was almost invisible, shrouded in shadow.
The room’s only source of illumination, a small window high up on one wall, allowed a single shaft of light to penetrate the room. The light fell directly on Pike, revealing the paleness of his skin and the contrasting dark bags hanging loosely beneath his eyes.
Dust motes floated gently from darkness into light and back again to darkness.
The room seemed more a cell than the office of the leader of what was quickly becoming one of the most powerful religious organizations on earth.
“Is science able to explain this?” Pike’s fist banged suddenly down onto the table, the explosion of noise echoing off the bare concrete walls.
“No! Of course, they cannot. What do they offer instead? Empty theories, ideas and possibilities. Anything but accept the simplest truth. The scientists promise us a technological paradise, but instead they open the doors to Hell.”
The priest’s hands came together above his heart and then apart in an imitation of a bird taking flight, “Twenty-one grams—the weight of the soul as it escapes the confines of our body.”
The other man in the room was used to these outpourings. As time had gone by since they first met, the priest’s frequent soliloquies had become more and more extravagant as his growing delusions began to manifest; his mood swings becoming more extreme with each passing day. As the priest continued his erratic tirade, the companion detected a hint of contempt, just a smidgeon of venom, creeping into the priest’s voice as he spat, “Scientists! They are as worthless as lawyers. They both take the truth and twist it to match their own warped perceptions.”
The other said nothing. He continued to watch impassively while the priest raised himself to his feet, leaned across the table until he was just a few inches away and whispered, “It appears the Devil has finally awoken and shown his face.” Tears ran down the priest’s cheeks as he spoke, collecting in a glistening pool on the top of the table, as his mood swung toward ecstasy.
“We have been given a task,” Pike whispered. “God has asked much of us before, but now he has sent us his final test and we will prove our worthiness.”
Thirty-Three
“Have you seen this?” demanded Mitchell Lorentz as he tossed a copy of the morning edition of the Washington Times onto the table next to Jim.
“And a very good morning to you too, Doctor Lorentz,” said Jim, glancing up from his breakfast plate. Licking toast crumbs from his fingers as he swiveled the paper around to read newspaper’s headline.
Scientists admit their involvement in the Slip, the headline screamed. Jim quickly scanned the leading article. It carried all their names and quoted an ‘unnamed source close to the project’ as having admitted they were leading an investigation into the probability that Project Tach-Comm had been responsible for the Slip. Interestingly though, there was no mention of the cascade effect, only that the team in Reno was now investigating the events leading up to the catastrophe following the initiation of the experiment.
“Oh! That’s not good,” said Jim.
“My God. How do these things get out?” squawked Lorentz as he paced back and forth behind Jim’s chair.
“Do you want me to call an emergency meeting?” asked Jim.
“No. No. I know it wasn’t anybody here. Security is too tight and none of us have left the building. This leak has come from outside of our team. Besides, we can’t afford the time to launch an investigation.”
Jim nodded his head in agreement, then asked, “Why no mention of the cascade effect? That’s a little odd don’t you think?”
Lorentz pulled out a chair from under the table and sat down. “Who knows? Maybe they only heard some of a conversation or got hold of part of a memo. I’ve ordered the head of security to review all protocols and pull all the communication logs; but I don’t think he will find anything.”
“Can’t we just deny it? Say we have no idea what they are talking about?”
“What’s the point? Pretty soon, every half-baked loony will be coming out of the woodwork ready to tell their side of the story of how they destroyed the future. I half expect to be sued for copyright infringement by every eccentric within a hundred miles for stealing their ideas in a dream.” Lorentz’s head dropped slowly to the table where he gently tapped his forehead repeatedly on the tabletop. “Why me,” he asked.
“The price of fame, my friend,” said Jim, placing a reassuring hand against the scientists shoulder.
Lorentz sat up. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“So what are you going to do? Issue a rebuttal?”
“Nothing. I’ve been half—expecting it to occur. It was always unlikely we could keep something of this magnitude under wraps. If your theory is right, then all of this,” he waved a dismissive hand at the crumpled newspaper, “will mean nothing, and if your theory is wrong… well… none of us will have anything more to worry about ever again, anyway.”
“I can’t fault your logic,” said Jim. “I don’t like it, but I surely can’t fault it.”
Thirty-Four
The first protestors showed up outside the security fence the morning after the article appeared in the Washington Times. They came in cars and minivans, on foot and on bike. A trickle at first, but by the end of the day there were close to two-hundred members of the Church of Second Redemption gathered around the entrance to the base.
The first the scientists knew of it was when Lorentz received a call on his office phone from the head of security.
“Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Lorentz,” the voice of Sam Calhoun, head of security for the facility, announced. “I thought it best to let you know about a developing problem, we have out here at the front gate.” He went on to explain about the newly arrived protesters who were in the process of setting up camp on the stretch of grass adjacent to the main entrance gate to the facility.