Ah, the good old days.
The Rebels, you ask? Well, you know how these things go. There’s the Official History now, so there’s just one version, the Choirs’, but as far as the truth is concerned . . . They’ve turned Lucifer into a premature anti-Fascist, a crypto-Communist. At most he was a Social Democrat. An intellectual with ideas about reform, that’s what he was, the kind who always gets killed in revolutions. What did Lucifer want, actually? A broader representation, and the fair division of Chaos. And wasn’t He then the very one who then divided up Chaos? You see how it goes, He catches on Himself finally, but nothing
must be said to Him directly. Enlightened, oh yes, He’s that, to be sure; but paternalistic, first and foremost.
Representation, on the other hand, is still far in the future, and that’s where it’ll stay. I think He’d favor change. But the Higher Orders, they whisper in his ear. Just look at what’s happening with this Relativity. Would issing a decree be all that much trouble? He knows that the space-time observations made in the Crystalline are different from those made in the Sky of Mercury.
You know what I mean? Of course He knows. He made the Universe, right? But
try saying so. They’ll send you straight to the Primum Mobile Boiler Room. There’s no way out: Once He admits the expanding universe and curved space, He’ll have , to abolish the departments of the Heavens and replace the Primum Mobile with a constant and diffused energy source.
And then all the positions and posts will be superfluous: the Powers of the Sky of Venus, the Central Cherubinium for Firmament Maintenance, the Chief Executive Officers of the Heavens, the Seraphic Foundation of the Prim um Mobile, and the Wardens of the Mystic Rose! You see what I mean? The old organization is out and a new decentralized staff chart has to be established. Ten big Archangels without portfolio: that’s what’ll happen. In other words, nothing will happen.
Just drop by the Prim um Mobile control room and try mentioning E = mc2• They’ll put you on trial for sabotage. Do you realize that the directors of the Boiler Room are still trained from a textbook written by Albert of Saxony, The Theory and Practice of Impetus, and the Handy Guide to the Vis Movendi commissioned by Buridan?
And this is where the mixups come from. Only yesterday the Bureau of Planetary Initiative set up a system near the Nebula of the Swan. You should have heard them. They talked about a stabilization of the epicycle. Well, a nova exploded that they’ll remember for a millennium. The whole zone radioactive. And try to find out who’s res.ponsible. An accident, they say. But an accident means Chance, you know, and Chance means casting doubt on the Old Man’s power.
These are hardly trifling matters, and He knows it. He’s very alert to such things. He personally wrote a memo to the joint Seven Heavens on the subversive theory of the statistics of Chance.
What can be done, you ask? Why, with radical reorganization and a new expanding structure every thing can be worked out. You epand and expand, and one fine day you incorporate Hell again. And that’s what they say they all want. Harmony, celestial harmony, all-embracing Love. You should hear them. But it’s only talk. Gabriel, in his Jupiter address, spoke about our Heaven First policy.
If you take a closer look, it means a contracting universe. Gabriel! What a character! If he could, he’d declare Earth out of bounds, like Hell. ‘ He’s never been able to bear E,arth. He handled the Annunciation, but his teeth were clenched the whole time. He could hardly refuse. If you only knew what he went around saying afterward, about that girl . . . For him, the Son is too far to the left. You follow me? And he’s never forgiven the Paraclete for Pentecost. Those twelve guys were already too smart, he says, all they needed was the gift of tongues!
He’s tough, and a demagogue. Hand-in-glove with Moses. For Gabriel, the aim of creation was the freeing of the chosen people from bondage in Egypt. Now we’ve done it, he says, so that’s that. We should shut down the firm: it’s not bringing in anything. If it weren’t for the Son, by now Gabriel would have pulled it off.
You might say: Well, Jet’s back the Son, and at the right moment he will make his move. But it’s risky. The 0 Id Man is smarter than they think, and He never forgives. And the idea of another fall of the angels scares everybody in this place. I mean everybody. Then there’s the Ghost, he blows where he lists, the saying goes, so you never know what side he’s on: Maybe when the right moment comes, he’ll back out, and then where are we?
The Son, too . . . l et me tell you. He’s left-wing, true enough. Everybody’s to the left, to hear them talk. But do you think he’d accept-for examplethe uncertainty principle? «If you like, you can establish the position of an electron, its energy, and even the year of its birth! Just watch me!» Doesn’t he realize that for others it’s not so easy?
But to him this is all intellectuals’ hot air: «The present state of the Heavens,» he said in his Christmas message this year, «represents the best organizational plan with which the Kingdom can advance toward the future while preserving respect for tradition: in short, progress without risk!» You get it?
This may all seem nonsense to you. The Earth goes ahead on its own, anyway; these characters quarrel among themselves, but nobody lays a finger on Earth for fear somebody else will want to get into the act. For us, however, it’s a vital question. Those who live on the colony planets are virtually excluded from the Kingdom. And if not excluded, they have to go through torments, apply for citizenship in one of the Heavens-and then, forget it.
You know: all day dancing in a ring and the only news you get is from the Blessed Vision. Yes, the one that extends all over the universe. What the Choirs want to be seen, what the Archangelic Union passes off as the Blessed Vision, that’s all they see! The rest is fog. I tell you, they treat us like children.
And He knows nothing about it. He thinks of Himself thinking and therefore believes everything is fine. So they won’t touch the Aristotelian model; they flatter Him with the story of the First Cause, of absolute transcendence, and they keep everything from Him.
Mind you, I’m not some kind of pantheist weirdo. Really, I’m not. I wouldn’t want you to take me for a subversive or think I’m simply envious. We all agree that an Order is necessary, and He has every right to handle it. Still, He has to make some concessions. Times have changed, right?
I tell you, it can’t go on like this. Too much unrest. The people are on the move. We’ve come to the boiling point.
I give this another ten thousand years. Then you’ll see.
1961
The Thing
«Well, Professor?» the General asked, with a hint of impatience.
«Well what?» Professor Ka said. He was clearly stalling for time.
» You’ve been working down here for five years, and nobody’s disturbed you. We’ve demonstrated our faith in you. But we can’t rely only on your word forever. The time has come when we must see for ourselves. «
There was a threatening edge in the General’s voice.
With a weary gesture, Ka smiled and said : «You catch me at my weakest moment, General. I wanted to wait a little longer, but you put me on the spot. I have made something . . . » His voice sank almost to a whisper. «Something enormous. And, by the Sun, people must know about it!»
He waved, as if to usher the General into the cave. He led him to the back, to a place illuminated by a shaft of light that entered through a narrow aperture in the wall. Here, on a smooth ledge, Ka showed him the Thing.
It was an almond-shaped object, nearly flat, its surface many-faceted, like a huge diamond, only opaque, with almost metallic glints.
«Good,» the General said, puzzled. «It’s a stone.»
There was a sly flash in the Professor’s blue eyes, beneath their bushy, bristling brows. «Yes,» he. said, «it’s a stone. But not a stone to be left lying on the ground, among other stones. It is meant to be grasped.»
«To be-?»
«Grasped, General. This stone contains all the power that man has ever dreamed of, the secret of Energy, a million manpower. Look . . .»
Cupping the palm of his ·hand, he crooked his fingers and placed them on the stone until he was clasping it, then raised his hand and, with it, the stone. The stone stuck to the hand, its thickest part stuck to the palm and the fingers, while the tip protruded and pointed at the ground or upward, or at the General, depeding on how the Professor moved his wrist.
The Professor swung his arm violently, and the tip of the stone drew a trajectory in space. The Professor brought his arm up and down, and the tip of the stone met the friable rock of the ledge. Then the wonder occurred: the tip struck the rock, penetrated it, scratched it, chipped it. As the
