Johann and Beatrice’s boat was headed for a wooden dock where twenty-five or thirty bedraggled people were standing, waving and hollering in their direction. Elsewhere along the shore, small groups were piling into the canoes and other small boats and coming toward them.
“I don’t like the looks of this,” Johann said, starting to feel tense. He instinctively reached behind him and picked up one of the long oars.
A huge barge passed in front of their boat when they were in the middle of the river. When the barge was gone, three boats from the poor city were nearly upon them. Johann and Sister Beatrice could clearly see the occupants of the first vessel. An old, wizened Asiatic woman, her hair matted and unkempt, was holding out her right hand and yelling something they couldn’t understand. Three bright-eyed silent children, two girls and a boy, were sitting on the floor of the boat behind her. Their hands were outstretched as well.
Johann was now standing in the boat, holding an oar across the front of his body. He put the oar in the water and paddled fiercely to soften their impact with the ramshackle vessel carrying the old woman and the children. The two boats bumped, but not hard enough that anyone was injured. The children laughed.
Sister Beatrice reached into the picnic basket and pulled out two food cylinders. One she placed in the hands of the old woman and the other she broke into pieces and distributed to the children. The woman smiled appreciatively. The three children greedily ate the food.
A chorus of shouts came from the crowd on the dock when Beatrice passed out the food. More people rushed to the boats. Johann’s inchoate fear escalated into terror as he counted all the small boats headed in their direction.
He quickly surveyed the entire scene around them, located another tunnel, downstream on his left, and began to ply the water with long, powerful strokes of his oar. A second boat pulled alongside, this one occupied by a dark brown man and two sullen teenage boys. None of them smiled. They held out their hands. Beatrice gave them one food cylinder each. There was no acknowledgment of the gift.
Johann rowed even faster. Half a dozen boats were closing in on them. Johann tried to remember how many cylinders had originally been in the basket, and how many they had eaten during the picnic. A black family, a man, a woman, and three children, were in the next boat that reached Johann and Beatrice. She gave the family the two remaining food cylinders and showed them that the basket was now empty. The man grunted, said something in a strange language, and made a drinking motion with his hands. Beatrice handed the man the fuller of their two water jugs.
It was obvious to Johann that they were not going to reach the tunnel entrance without being intercepted by at least two more of the boats. “And what will you give them now?” he said to Sister Beatrice in between the furious strokes of his oar.
She was still calm. There was no fear or panic in her eyes. “I’ll simply tell them that we have no food or water left,” she said.
There was no time for him to argue with her. The two boats, operating in tandem, drew up on either side of them. Three adult males were on each boat. A burly brown man with a mustache and a leering smile, who was standing in the boat on Johann’s right, was obviously in charge. He said something in a demanding tone to Sister Beatrice. She smiled and shrugged, showing him the empty basket. He motioned at the remaining water jug. Beatrice handed it to him. Still they did not go away.
After a short discussion with two of his compatriots, the burly man started to climb into their boat. “NO,” Johann said emphatically, brandishing the oar. The man looked at Johann and reconsidered. With a quick swipe of his arm, he grabbed the picnic basket out of Beatrice’s hands. She fell down on the seat.
“Now go!” thundered Johann, using the oar and his enormous strength to push away first one boat and then the other. They were still a hundred meters from the tunnel. More boats were coming at them from both sides. “Stay away,” Johann shouted, flailing at the closest boat with the oar.
None of the other boats came any closer as Johann paddled hard toward the tunnel entrance. He kept moving his head from side to side, glaring at the occupants of the nearby vessels. They reached the darkness of the tunnel without any more encounters.
Are you all right?” Johann asked Beatrice after they were safely in the dark tunnel.
“Physically I am,” she said, “but…” She did not finish her thought.
Johann took several deep breaths and tried to slow down his raging pulse. “But what?” he said after a long silence.
“Now is not the time to talk about it,” she said. “The incident is still too fresh… And I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Hurt my feelings?” Johann said. “What on earth are you talking about?”
He felt her hand reaching for his in the darkness. “That’s just my point, Brother Johann,” she said. “I’m not talking about anything on Earth. We are not on Earth… We are either in an alien spaceship, or in some kind of purgatory, depending on which of our interpretations is correct… In either case, I believe we were just given a test. And we probably failed.”
“I’ve completely lost you,” Johann said.
“That’s why we’re not going to talk about it now, Brother Johann,” she said.
When Johann and Sister Beatrice came out of the tunnel, they could not see well, for the artificial sun had vanished. On their left, however, was a town with lights shining through the windows of the buildings beside the river. A few of the buildings looked familiar to Johann.
“Well, how about this, Brother Johann,” Sister Beatrice said. “We’re in downtown Mutchville again.”
The boat pulled over to the left and stopped against a small dock. Beatrice stood up and started to disembark.
“Before we get out, Sister Beatrice,” Johann said, “will you at least answer one question?”
“If I can, Brother Johann,” she replied.
“Were those real people like you and me back there, on and around the river?”
“I don’t know what you mean by the expression ‘real people,’” Beatrice said. “After thinking some about it, I believe that the entire scene was created expressly for us—by God, or the aliens, take your pick—to see how we would react.”
“So you don’t think all those people were captured or abducted from the earth and are now living in this huge sphere?” Johann said.
Beatrice smiled. “No,” she said, “and you don’t either, Brother Johann, even if it makes it easier to justify your actions.”
“But they might have harmed you,” Johann insisted.
“Only if it was God’s will,” Sister Beatrice said. She stepped out of the boat. “We can discuss this more later,” she said. “It looks as if our hosts have something else prepared for us now. This reproduction of downtown Mutchville is definitely not an accident.”
Four square blocks of the center of Mutchville had been faithfully replicated beside the shore of the river. At least the outside of the buildings was right. The correct signs, although unlit, were on the exteriors of the buildings, and lights were shining through many of the windows. But all of the doors were locked. Johann quickly became frustrated.
“What are we supposed to do here?” he said testily after neither door to the Mutchville Emporium would open.
“Be patient, Brother Johann,” Sister Beatrice said. “I’m certain it will become clear eventually.”
They turned into another street. In front of them, on the right side halfway down the block, a neon sign was blinking. THE BALCONY—RESERVATIONS OFFICE, it said.
Johann’s heart nearly leaped out of his body when he saw the sign. He stopped and struggled to control his emotions.
Even in the dim light Sister Beatrice could see the pained expression on his face. She, too, had noticed the sign. “What is it, Brother Johann?” she said.
Johann did not respond. His first thought was to run, or at least to suggest that they should return to the boat. But he knew that was impossible. His internal turmoil c
ontinued to grow as he reluctantly followed Sister Beatrice down the street.
“The Balcony was a famous brothel, wasn’t it, Brother Johann?” Beatrice said pleasantly as they approached the sign.
“Yes, it was,” he mumbled.
She could tell that he was uncomfortable. Out of kindness, she did not say anything else until they reached the door.
“I’ll let you open it,” Sister Beatrice said.
“You’re certain that it’s going to open?” he said nervously.
“Yes, I am, Brother Johann,” she replied. “This must be where we are supposed to go. This is the only outside sign that has been working since we left the boat.”
The door yielded. Johann pushed it open, expecting to see the small office in which he had arranged his Christmas Eve rendezvous. Instead, Sister Beatrice and he walked into a perfect reproduction of the living room where he had met and had sex with his hostess Amanda.
Johann was stupefied. As he looked around the room he thought he was going to lose consciousness. A million thoughts and feelings crashed upon him so swiftly that he could not sort them out. He sat down on the couch before his knees buckled.
Sister Beatrice wandered around the room. “What a beautiful Christmas tree!” she exclaimed. She played a few notes on the piano before she noticed the photograph above and behind the keyboard.
“Why, it’s you, Brother Johann,” she said. “With a lovely wife and two handsome children.” She turned and looked across the room at him. “But you told me you had never been married? I don’t understand.”
Sister Beatrice stood there in her robe and headpiece, smiling patiently at Johann. He could not remember ever having been so embarrassed before. “It’s a long story,” he said, after fidgeting uncomfortably for several seconds. “But I haven’t lied to you… I’ve never been married.”
“Then who are these people?” Sister Beatrice asked.
“Oh, there you are, darling,” another voice said. “I expected you hours ago.”
Johann glanced up from his hands with a look of sheer terror on his face. Amanda, or her ghost, or a simulation, was striding across the room toward him. She was wearing the same black dress that she had worn on Christmas Eve.
Johann was powerless to respond in any way. His entire being was one large short circuit. Amanda kissed him enticingly on the lips and then snuggled into his lap with her arms around the back of his neck.
“You can do better than that, darling,” she said. “After all, it’s Christmas Eve and I’ve been waiting for you all day.”
Before Johann could say anything, Amanda began kissing him again. Even her kisses were a perfect match! Johann finally gained control of himself and struggled away from her embrace.
“Amanda,” he said, “there’s someone else with me. Sister Beatrice. She’s the bishop of the Order of St. Michael.”
“Oh,” Amanda said. She stood up and straightened her dress. “You didn’t say you were going to bring another woman,” she said. “I don’t know if—”
“There has been a mix-up, a terrible mix-up,” Johann said.
Sister Beatrice walked over and the two women exchanged greetings. From time to time Beatrice looked over at Johann with a curious expression on her face.
“Is there anything I can get for you, Sister?” Amanda asked.
“No, thank you,” Beatrice replied. “But I am very tired, and I don’t know where I am going to sleep tonight.”
“We have an extra room with two twin beds,” Amanda said. “It’s at the top of the staircase, on the left. There’s a small bathroom as well.”
“That’s great,” Beatrice replied. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll turn in.” She started for the door. “Good night, Johann,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning… I think.” She still had that peculiar expression on her face as she left the living room.
Johann leaped up from the couch. “Wait a minute, Sister Beatrice,” he said. “I’m coming with you.”
He turned to Amanda. “There’s been a change of plans,” he said. “I’m going to sleep in the other bed, in the same room as Sister Beatrice.”
“But—” Amanda started to protest.
“No, really, don’t take it personally. It’s better this way."
“Suit yourself,” Amanda said as Johann rushed out the door.
5
Johann lay on his back in the small bed. His eyes were still open. The room was dark. Beside him, on top of the white bedspread on an identical bed, he could barely see the outline of Sister Beatrice. She was sleeping on her side, facing the wall, still wearing her robe and headpiece. From the sound of her regular breathing, Johann surmised that she was sleeping peacefully.
He had not slept at all during the three hours since they had come up the stairs to the bedroom. They had hardly spoken before Beatrice had gone to bed. Johann had tried once, awkwardly, to start a conversation, not knowing himself either what to say or how to say it. She had been washing her face in the bathroom at the time. A little later she had passed close to him in the bedroom.
“You don’t owe me any explanation, Johann,” she had said. “I am very tired,” she then added. “If it’s all right, I would like to go to sleep.”
Johann had turned off the lights after Beatrice assumed her sleeping position on the bed. He stood quietly in the room for several minutes, staring at her silhouette, talking to her in his mind but not saying anything out loud. Finally he had lain down in the adjoining bed, hoping to escape into the soothing world of sleep.
But Johann had not been able to turn off either his mind or his emotions. His mind had bombarded him with question after question about what he had experienced during the day. How and why had all those scenes been created? Who had created them, and how did they have such intimate knowledge of his personal history? What were the people Sister Beatrice and he had encountered, including Amanda, if one accepted the proposition that they were probably not real?
On and on his mind had raced. But it was not only the questions his mind was asking that had caused Johann discomfort and prolonged his sleeplessness. What was still mating him squirm, three hours later, were his feelings of guilt and embarrassment about the reconstructed scene from the Balcony. He was positively mortified that Sister Beatrice had seen him in such an environment. Johann could not decide whether to tell her the truth about what had happened in the Other Zone on Christmas Eve, or to ignore the subject altogether. Either way, he was certain, based on the expressions he had seen on her face earlier in the evening, that her opinion of him had been irrevocably compromised.
Lying in that strange room in the dark, Johann had not yet admitted to himself that he was falling in love with Beatrice, and that this new feeling was responsible for his monumental angst and indecision. All he knew was that he was feeling hopeless and depressed. He wished with all his being that he had canceled his appointment at the Balcony and had gone instead to hear Beatrice sing at the church.
Johann must have eventually fallen asleep for an hour or two, for the light from the ribbon awakened him from a dream. It sat there in the dark room, hovering just below the ceiling. As he stirred into consciousness, opening his eyes intermittently to look at the ribbon, Sister Beatrice sat up in the bed next to him.
“Goodness, Brother Johann,” she said, covering her mouth while she yawned, “it feels so early… Have we had a full night’s sleep already?”
“I don’t think so, Sister Beatrice,” he said.
The ribbon flew over to the door and made some twists and turns. Sister Beatrice headed for the bathroom. “There’s no rest for the weary,” she said idly.
Nor for the wicked, Johann thought, his unresolved feelings from the previous night erupting in a new wave of guilt. And what should I do now? he asked himself.
He used the bathroom after she was finished. When he came out, Sister Beatrice was standing in the doorway with one hand on the wall. “The ribbon is already halfway down the stairs,” she said.
“I guess we’re in a hurry today.”
Out on the streets of pseudo-Mutchville, it was completely dark. None of the interior lights that had been shining through the windows the night before was illuminated. The Balcony sign was also off.
Johann and Beatrice followed the ribbon down to the river. Their boat was waiting for them, with a new supply of food cylinders and water vessels. They sat down in the same seats they had occupied the previous day. The boat began to move immediately, in the same direction as the ribbon, which was already thirty meters in front of them.
It was dark everywhere. Johann and Beatrice could not see anything except the ribbon and its reflection on the water of the river. He started to speak. “If it’s all right,” she interrupted him, “I would like to meditate first.” She handed him the food and water. “It’s the way I begin every day.”
For thirty minutes they rode silently in the boat. Beatrice had her eyes closed. Johann took occasional bites from a cylinder, sipped the water, and gazed at the reflections of ribbon light on Beatrice’s face. His internal turmoil had not subsided. He had still not decided whether or not he was going to say anything more about the scene from the Balcony. As they rode along the river Johann again envied Beatrice. It must be wonderful, he thought, to be so totally accepting… But how is that possible for someone like me?
The ribbon flew off to the right, following a separate branch of the river, only moments before Johann and Beatrice entered a long tunnel. When they emerged the sky was just beginning to show some light on Johann’s left, and the river was quite narrow. They could see forests on both banks. Scattered here and there, among the trees, were typical Japanese country dwellings with blue tile roofs. Their boat passed under a bridge. Beatrice opened her eyes as they came into a city. An old train, moving along the river’s edge, caught up with them. The cars were marked with Japanese characters, and were half-full of people.
The sky became lighter as dawn approached. A middle-aged Japanese woman, wearing a simple blue-and-white yukata, was out in her vegetable garden. She looked over at Johann and Beatrice with a baffled expression as their boat slowly passed. Beatrice waved.
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