Initially, both Alex Jackson and Zack Markwether remained in Rome with Lori, and she spent as much time with both of them as she could. In July, they celebrated her sixteenth birthday together, and that night her father said how proud he was of her, and how her mother must be looking down on them at that moment, feeling the same way.
As Lori thought of her mother, she felt good about giving up smoking for her. Each time the teenager felt like using a cigarette, she remembered how her mother had been so opposed to the habit, so she renewed her personal vow to never touch one again. Some people might think it was a small gesture, perhaps, but Lori saw it as a sign of her own strength, and of her love for a woman she missed so much.
If she weren’t so busy, so focused on the important work at hand, Lori might be interested in dating Alex. Gallantly, he still claimed to be too old for her, but she didn’t feel that way at all. She just didn’t have time for him.
Her father, who had only been in her life for a few months, seemed deeply remorseful for the past blunders in his life, and vowed to make up for them. One afternoon, as he and Lori stood out on the terrace of the castle, gazing at Vatican City, he told her he would need to return to his work in Washington, DC, and that he would be leaving the following week. They made plans for her to visit him one day at his home in America, and for a trip together to Seattle for Camilla Vale’s private memorial service.
It struck Lori as curious how fate worked, the way she’d lost her mother so tragically and then found her father. She wondered if a higher power had something to do with it, if God had somehow countered the destruction that evil forces had wreaked on her little family.
In August, Deborah Marvel delivered a revelatory speech carried by satellite around the world. In it she said a cosmic shift was required, a sharp break with the male-dominated past. Fresh pathways needed to be cut, so that new facets of human behavior could be explored and discovered. “God is both male and female,” she proclaimed, to an astonished audience of billions.
In another speech the following week, she described the important contributions of Lori Vale in the restoration of the ancient gospels. “Lori is a most unique individual,” Deborah exclaimed. “The finest young woman any of us have ever met.”
Soon it was rumored that Lori was being groomed for a high position in the organization when she was of age, perhaps even the number one job. She didn’t know how she felt about that.
Chapter 45
The masculine and feminine elements, exactly equal and balancing each other, are as essential to the maintenance of the equilibrium of the universe as positive and negative electricity. . . .
—Elizabeth Cady Stanton, The Woman’s Bible (1898—Essays about women in the Bible)
It was a Tuesday in mid-December, shortly after Lori’s daily tutoring session, conducted by Raffaela Inez. The Mexican professor—now on the UWW staff—had remained in Rome with her husband, Arsinio, and with Consuela Santos, the birthmother of the reincarnated Martha of Galilee. Lori liked Raffaela very much, and was excelling in all of her studies.
Just before flying back to Washington, DC several months ago, Zack had arranged for the tutor. He told Lori about it at the airport, when she saw him off. “As your father, I couldn’t just let you drop out of high school,” he had said, with a twinkle in his eye. “No matter how important your job is.”
She liked having a parent care about her again, someone to watch over her in a different way than the Lord Almighty did, a person who could help her with seemingly small details of her life. Lori and her father spoke often by videophone, several times a week. . . .
Now she and Alex stood just inside the large nursery of the she-apostles, looking on as women cared for the children. The attentive matrons had hung handmade Christmas decorations on the walls, and had decorated a fir tree, placing gifts beneath it. A new emblem of the UWW was emblazoned on one wall: interlocked female and male icons superimposed over a Christian cross. Beside that hung a memorial plaque for the she-apostles’ birthparents and siblings who had been killed . . . both at the hands of the UWW and of the now-defunct BOI.
Toys and games were strewn in one corner, but were of little interest to the children, who seemed content to interact with one another in different ways, perhaps even engaging in veiled forms of mental amusement. Thus far, Lori had seen no sign of the telekinetic powers the she-apostles had displayed previously, moving objects around. She wondered if they practiced by themselves, or if her own presence—as she had earlier thought—might have something to do with their abilities. The powers had certainly been limited, but in the case of Martha of Galilee had been just enough to help Lori in a time of desperate need.
In the eight months since Dixie Lou’s death the special children had grown, and so had the fetus in Lori’s womb. The teenager’s stomach was quite protuberant now, as she was due to deliver any day.
“Maybe I should have my baby in Seattle,” Lori said. Pressing both palms against her stomach, she felt the life within her shift a little. For months Lori had been troubled by the continued silence of the she-apostles, which gave her a feeling of unease. Perhaps if she returned to the city of her own childhood to give birth, the place in which she had grown up, she would feel better, more centered.
“It’s a little late to think of that,” Alex said, looking at her profile.
“You’re right.”
Glancing at his watch, Alex said, “I’d better get going. Deborah has a busy travel schedule, and I need to make the reservations.”
“She says you’re a great personal secretary.”
“Maybe so, but don’t ever call me a stud knight or a himbo,” he quipped. Then he gave her a light kiss on the forehead—as an older brother might do—and left.
Alex was proving to be a fine asset for United Women of the World, and Deborah often said he was much more than a secretary, and did more work than two or three women. He was an exception in that regard, she always liked to quip, because it was usually the other way around.
Lori smiled as Veronica, now two years old, went to the younger Martha of Galilee, and hugged her. The brown-skinned Martha could walk well, but often preferred to sit on the floor. She was subject to apparent bouts of depression, perhaps a carryover of guilt because of her part in the betrayal of Jesus. But whenever this feeling came over her, the other she-apostles were quick to come to her aid, showing that they forgave her, just as Jesus would have wanted.
Veronica was doing exactly that now, kneeling by Martha, stroking her head and communicating with her in the wordless way that the she-apostles seemed to prefer at times. Lori was beginning to recognize a variety of facial expressions that the children exchanged . . . slight variations around the mouth, or in the wrinkling of the forehead, or in the brightness of the eyes. But she still had a long way to go before she understood, and so far the children were not giving her any additional assistance.
Nonetheless, Lori was pleased at the way the she-apostles were getting along together, and she felt a special affinity for them. Each day she came in the nursery and watched them, while maintaining a polite distance, so as not to disturb them. The children seemed to take scant notice of her, which occasionally brought tears to her eyes. She didn’t understand, but desperately wanted to.
Suddenly, she became aware of a change in the little girls. All were gazing at her at once, a mixture of races focused on her. When she moved nervously to one side, twenty-four eyes followed, seemingly linked as one organism.
In concert, the she-apostles began to walk toward her with remarkable proficiency for their ages, almost striding in their little bodies. The matrons remained behind, as if they had been given a signal.
Lori’s heart raced.
The she-apostles formed a circle around the American teenager, and linked hands with one another. Then Veronica and Martha, who were side-by-side, released their grips and reached for Lori.
Taking this as an invitation, Lori slipped into the circle, where she knelt and too
k hold of the little hands. They were warm.
Brightly colored lights filled Lori Vale’s vision, and in panakh . . . an ancient form of epiphany . . . she beheld a glowing galactic keyhole, a heavenly pathway to the next threshold for humanity. With words that made no sound, the she-apostles told her what lay ahead, a remarkable, unprecedented journey led by women but dependent upon the harmony of both sexes. The twelve male apostles would return, and when combined with their female counterparts would reveal the full, glorious story of Jesus Christ and the Kingdom of God . . . a tale that would be collected and organized by Scriptorium scholars, but in different ways from the biblical editing of centuries past.
As Lori learned these things, she experienced a warmth within her soul, a heavenly radiance, and she fully understood her place in the remarkable events that were to come. In the shelter of her womb the messiah, Yeshua, grew.
Yeshua . . . Hebrew for Jesus, a name that was not male or female.
With all that had occurred, Lori wondered if she could possibly be carrying a girl child. How appropriate that would be, and exquisitely balanced . . . a female Jesus for the millennia to come.
But the young mother had already decided not to ask a doctor to determine the gender. She smiled gently to herself. After all, that would be like opening a present too early, spoiling the wonderful surprise.
* * *
For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus. For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.
—The Epistle of Paul, in Galatians 3:26–28, The New Testament
* * *
About the Author
Brian Herbert, the son of Frank Herbert, is the author of numerous New York Times bestsellers. He has won many literary honors and has been nominated for the highest awards in science fiction. In 2003, he published Dreamer of Dune, a moving biography of his father that was nominated for the Hugo Award. After writing ten DUNE-universe novels with Kevin J. Anderson, the coauthors created their own epic series, HELLHOLE. Brian began his own galaxy-spanning science fiction series in 2006, TIMEWEB. His other acclaimed solo novels include Sidney’s Comet; Sudanna, Sudanna; The Race for God; and Man of Two Worlds (written with Frank Herbert).
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