The Jesus Incident w-2

by Frank Herbert

Conductor of a symphony.

  He liked that. It was food for thought. Did the ship have such thoughts? He experienced a sudden feeling of affinity for the ship, his enemy.

  What food are we that we deserve reverence and care? What manna? Could the shi.... ?

  His reverie was shattered by the abrupt opening hiss of his cubby hatch.

  Who dare.... ?

  The hatch slammed back against the bulkhead and Lewis darted through, sealed the opening behind him and dogged it. He was breathing hard and, instead of his usual self-effacing brown fatigues, he wore a crisp new issue singlesuit of dark green.

  "Lewis!"

  Oakes was overjoyed to see the ma.... and then dismayed. When Lewis turned at the sealed hatch, it was apparent that his face bore signs of quick medical patchwork to cover numerous cuts and bruises. And he was limping.

  ***

  Judgment prepares you to enter the stream of chance and use your will. You use judgment to modulate will. Thinking is the performance of the moment. You sit in judgment, a convection center for the currents where past prepares a future. It is a balancing act.

  - Kerro Panille, The Avata Argue

  HALI EKEL, moving with her usual sure-footed grace, leaped up one-handed to grasp the lift bar for the ceiling hatch leading to the software storage section of Records. Her pribox, suspended on its shoulder harness, slapped her hip as she jumped. She had discovered less than an hour earlier that Kerro Panille was headed groundside. He had done this without farewell, not even a not.... or a poem.

  Not that I have any special hold on him!

  She opened the hatch and levered herself up into the service tube.

  He refuses the breeding match with me, h....

  She pushed such thoughts aside. But his leaving this way hurt. They had come to maturity in the same creche section, were the same age (within days) and had remained friends. She had heard his stories of Earthside and he had heard her stories. Hali had no illusions about her own emotions. She thought Kerro the most attractive male shipside.

  Why was he always so distant?

  She crouched to scuttle up the curving oval of the tube. It was only one hundred and sixty centimeters in its longest diameter, eight centimeters short of her height, but she was used to moving around Ship through such little-known shortcuts.

  It's not as though I were ugly.

  Her shipcloth singlesuit, she knew, revealed an attractive feminine figure. Her skin was dark, eyes brown and she wore her black hair cropped short as all technicians did. All of the med-techs were acutely aware of the sanitary advantages of hair shorn to a bristly cap. Not that she had ever wanted Kerro to clip his hair or beard. She found his style exciting. But he did not have to deal with medical problems.

  She found the Records access hatch locked but she had memorized the code and it took only seconds to work the latch. Ship buzzed at her from the interior sensor-eye as she stooped and slipped through into the storage area.

  "Hali, what are you doing?"

  She stopped in shock. Vocal! Everyone knew the flat, metallic work-voice of Ship, the means of necessary contacts, but this was something differen.... a resonant voice full of emotional overtones. And Ship had used her name!

  ".... I want a software reader station. There's always one open in here."

  "You are very unconventional, Hali."

  "Have I done something wrong?" Her strong fingers worked to seal the hatchdogs as she spoke, and she hesitated there, fearful that she had offended Ship.

  But Ship was talking to her! Really talking!

  "Some would think your actions wrong."

  "I was just in a hurry. No one will tell me why Kerro has gone groundside."

  "Why did you not think to ask Me?"

  "I wa...." She glanced along the narrow passage between the rotary bins of software discs toward the reader station. Its keyboard and screen were blank, unoccupied as she had expected.

  Ship would not leave it there. "I am never farther from you than the nearest monitor or com-console."

  She peered up at the orange bulb of the sensor-eye. It was a baleful orb, a cyclopean pupil with its surrounding metal grid through which Ship's voice issued. Was Ship angry with her? The measured control of that awful voice filled her with awe.

  "I am not angry with you. I merely suggest that you show more confidence in Me. I am concerned about you."

  "I'.... confident of You, Ship. I WorShip. You know that. I just never thought You would talk to me like this."

  "As I talk to Kerro Panille? You are jealous, Hali."

  She was too honest to deny it, but words would not come. She shook her head.

  "Hali, go to the keyboard at the end of this aisle. Depress the red cursor in the upper right-hand corner and I will open a door behind that station."

  ".... door?"

  "You will find a hidden room there with another instruction station which Kerro Panille often used. You may use it now."

  Wondering and fearful, she obeyed.

  The entire keyboard and its desk swung wide to reveal a low opening. She crouched to enter and found herself in a small room with a vaguely yellow couch. Muted green light came from concealed illuminators at the corners of the room. There was a large console with screen and keyboard, a familiar holofocus circle on the floor. She knew the settin...small teaching lab, but one she had not even known existed. It was smaller than any other of her experience.

  She heard the hatch seal itself behind her, but she felt unaccountably secure in this privacy. Kerro had used this place. Ship was concerned about her. There was the unmistakable musk of Kerro's flesh on her sensitive nostrils. She rubbed at the gold ring in her nose. There was a stationary swivel seat at the keyboard. She slipped into it.

  "No, Hali. Stretch out on the couch. You will not need the keyboard here."

  Ship's voice came from all around her. She looked for the source of that awesomely-measured voice. There were no sensors visible or monitor-eyes.

  "Do not fear, Hali. This room is within my protective shield. Go to the couch."

  Hesitantly; she obeyed. The couch was covered with a slick material which felt cold against her neck and hands.

  "Why did you come here looking for an unoccupied terminal, Hali?"

  "I wanted to do somethin.... definite."

  "You love Kerro?"

  "You know I do."

  "It is your right to try to make him love you, Hali, but not by subterfuge."

  ".... I want him."

  "So you sought My help?"

  "I'll take any help I can get."

  "You have free access to information, Hali, but what you do with it is your own decision. You are making a life, do you understand that?"

  "Making a life?" She could feel her own perspiration against the slick material of the couch.

  "Your own life. It is your ow.... a gift. You should treat it well. Be happy with it."

  "Would You match Kerro and me again?"

  "Only if that really suits you both."

  "I'd be happier with Kerro. And Kerro's gone groundside!" It came out almost a wail and she felt tears at the edges of her eyes.

  "Can you not go groundside?"

  "You know I have Shipside medical responsibilities!"

  "Yes, the Shipmen must be kept healthy that Colony may eat. But I ask about your own decision."

  "They need me here!"

  "Hali, I ask that you trust Me."

  She blinked at the empty screen across from the couch. What a strange statement! How could one not trust Ship? All people were creatures of Ship. The invocations of WorShip marked their lives forever. But she felt that some personal response was being demanded and she gave it.

  "Of course I trust You."

  "I find that gratifying, Hali. Because of that, I have something just for you. You are to learn about a man called Yaisuah. The name is in an ancient language which was known as Aramaic. Yaisuah is a form of the name Joshua and it is where Jesus Lewis gets his name."


  In all of this, Hali was most startled by Ship's pronunciation of Jesus. Anyone shipside referring to Jesus called him Hesoos. But Ship's diction could not be questioned: "Geezus."

  She stared at the screen. The lab lights suddenly flared to bright, glinting off the metal surfaces. She blinked and sneezed.

  Maybe it isn't Ship talking to me, she thought. What if it's someone playing a joke? This was a frightening thought. Who would dare such a prank?

  "I am here, Hali Ekel. It is Ship speaking to you."

  "Do Yo.... read my mind?"

  "Reserve that question, Hali, but know that I can read your reactions. Do you not read the reactions of those around you?"

  "Yes, bu...."

  "Do not fear. I mean you no harm."

  She tried to swallow, recalling what Ship had said she could learn. Yaisuah?

  "Who is thi.... this Yaisuah?"

  "To learn that, you must travel."

  "Travel? Wh.... wha.... ?" She cleared her throat and forced herself to be calm. Kerro had used this lab often and had never shown fear of Ship. "Where will I travel?"

  "Not where, but when. You will stroll into that which you humans call Time."

  She took this to mean that Ship would show her a holo-record. "A projection? What are You going t.... ?"

  "Not that kind of projection. For this experience, you are the projection."

  "M.... th.... ?"

  "It is important that Shipmen learn about Yaisuah, who was also called Jesus. I have chosen you for this journey."

  She felt tightness in her chest, panic near. "How. . .?"

  "I know how, Hali Ekel, and so do you. Answer Me: How do your neurons function?"

  Any med-tech knew that. She tossed it off without thinking: "A charged measure of acetylcholene across the synapses wher...."

  "A charged measure, yes. A bridge, a shortcut. You take shortcuts all the time."

  "Bu.... ."

  "I am the universe, Hali Ekel. Every part of Me - each part in its entirety - the universe. All Mine - including the shortcuts."

  "But my bod.... wha.... ?" She broke off, stopped by an intense fear for this precious flesh she wore.

  "I will be with you, Hali Ekel. That matrix which is you, that also is part of the universe and Mine. You wish to know if I read your thoughts?"

  She found the very idea deeply disturbing, an invasion of her privacy. "Do You?"

  "Eke...." Such sadness Ship put into her name. "Our powers are of the same universe. Your thought is My thought. How can I help but know what you think?"

  She struggled for a deep breath. Ship's words spoke of things just beyond her grasp, but WorShip had taught her to accept.

  "Very well."

  "Now, are you ready to travel?"

  She tried to swallow in a dry throat. Her mind searched for some logical objection to this thing which Ship proposed. A projection? The words represented such an insubstantial thing. Ship said she would be the projection. How threatening that sounded!

  "Wh.... why must I go throug.... Time?"

  "Through?" Ship's tone conveyed an exquisite reprimand. "You persist in thinking of Time as linear and a barrier. That is not even close to the reality, but I will play that game if it reassures you."

  "What is...I mean, if it's not linea.... ?"

  "Think of it as linear if you wish. Think of it as thousands of meters of computer tape unraveled and crammed into this little lab. You could move from one Time to anothe...shortcut - just by reaching across the loops and folds."

  "Bu.... I mean if you actually go across, how can you get back t.... ?"

  "You never let go of the now."

  In spite of that deep and grinding fear, she was interested. "Two places at one Time?"

  "All Time is one place, Ekel."

  It occurred to her then that Ship had shifted from the personal and reassuring Hali to Ekel, subtly but definitely.

  "Why are You calling me Ekel now?"

  "Because I perceive that this is the line which you believe to be yourself. I do it to help you."

  "But if You take me somewhere els.... ?"

  "I have sealed this room, Ekel. You will have two bodies simultaneously, but separated by a very long Time and a very great distance."

  "Will I know bot.... ?"

  "You will be conscious of only one flesh, but you will know both."

  "Very well. What do I do?"

  "Stay there on the lab couch and accept the fact that I will make another body for you at another Time."

  "Will i.... ?"

  "If you do what I tell you to do, it will not hurt. You will understand the speech of this other place and I will give you an old body, an old woman. Old bodies are not as threatening to others. No one bothers an old woman."

  She tried to relax in obedience. Accept. But questions filled her mind. "Why are You sending me t.... ?"

  "Eavesdrop, Ekel. Observe and learn. And no matter what you see, do not try to interfere. You would cause unnecessary pain, perhaps even to yourself."

  "I just watch an...."

  "Do not interfere. You will see the consequences presently of interfering with Time."

  Before she could ask another question, she felt a prickling along the back of her neck; a slither of chill swept down her spine. Her heart slammed against her ribcage.

  Ship's voice came from a long distance. "Ready, Ekel." It was a command, not a question, but she answered, and her own voice echoed in her skull.

  "Yessssss...."

  ***

  The mind is a mirror of the universe.

  See the reflections?

  The universe is no mirror for the mind.

  Nothing out there

  Nothing in here

  Shows ourselves.

  - Kerro Panille, The Collected Poems

  WAELA TAOLINI lay in her groundside cubby, fatigue in her body, fatigue in her mind, but unable to sleep. Thomas had no mercy. Everything must be done to his perfectionist demands. He was a fanatic. They had spent twenty-one hours going through the operational routine for the new sub. Thomas would not wait for the arrival of the poet, who was somewhere in the bowels of Processing. No. We will use what time we have.

  She tried to take a deep breath. Pain yanked a knot behind her breastbone.

  She wondered how Thomas came to them. How could he be from Ship? Things he did not know, things that Shipmen took for granted, worried her. There was the incident with the Hooded Dasher.

  He was calm, though, I'll give him that.

  What really surprised her was his ignorance of The Game.

  A crowd had gathered behind the LTA hangar - off-shift crew, most of them drinking what Shipmen called Spinneret wine.

  "What's this about?" Thomas pointed his clipboard at the group.

  "It's The Game." She looked at him with a new amazement. "You mean you don't know The Game?"

  "What Game? That's just a bunch of drunks having a good tim.... strange, there was nothing in my briefing about liquors of any kind."

  "There have always been lab alcohols," she said, "and at one time there were wines and brandies. But officially we can't afford to give up any productive food for wine. Somehow, some do and the market is brisk. Those men," she nodded toward the group, "have traded away some of their food chits for it."

  "So, they trade food for wine that costs food to make - maybe less food. Isn't that their right?" His eyes squinted at her.

  "Yes, but food's short. They're going hungry. In this place, going hungry means you slow down and here, Raja Thomas, if you slow down you die. And maybe someone else dies because of it."

  "Do you do it?" he asked softly.

  "Yes," her skin glowed red, "when I can afford the time."

  She followed Thomas as he strolled toward the crew, pulled the sleeve of his singlesuit to stop him short.

  "There's more."

  "What?"

  "It requires an even number of players, men or women. Each one buys into The Game with a certain number of fo
od chits. They pair off any way they wish, and each one draws a wihi stick from a basket. They compare, and the longest stick wins a round. The shorter stick of the pair is eliminated, so those drawing the longer sticks pair up. They draw again, and so on until there is only one couple."

  "What about the food chits?"

  "The players up the ante every round, so if there are a lot of people, The Game gets pretty expensive."

  "Does the last couple divide the chits?"

  "No, they draw again. The one who draws the longer stick wins the chits."

  "That seems boring enough."

  "Yes."

  She hesitated, then: "The loser runs the perimeter."

  She said it offhand, without as much as a blink.

  "You mean they run around the outsid.... ?" his thumb hung in the air over his shoulder.

  She nodded. "They run it naked."

  "But they can't possibl.... that's almost ten kilometers out in the ope...."

  "Some make it."

  "But why? Not for food, it's not that bad yet, is it?"

  "No, not for food. For favors, jobs, quarters, partners. For the thrill. For the chance to go out with a flash from a boring life. The long sticks are the losers. Food chits are a consolation prize. The winner gets to run the P."

  Thomas let out a long breath.

  "What are the odds?"

  "By experience, they work out just like the rest of The Game - fifty-fifty. Half don't make it."

  "And it's legal?"

  It was her turn to look at him quizzically.

  "They have the right to their own bodies."

  He turned to watch the people playing thi.... this game.

  The crew had paired up, drawn, paired up, drawn, and was now down to the last pair. A man and a woman this time. The man had no nose, but wrinkled slits in his forehead pulsed with the moisture that Thomas took for breath. The woman looked vaguely like someone he had known.

  They drew, and the woman matched longer. The crowd cheered and helped her gather her winnings. They tucked them in her collar and sleeves and belt. The last of the wine was passed around and the group began moving toward the west quarter exterior hatch.

  "He's really going out there?" Thomas followed them with his eyes.