Tales of the Hidden World (13 page)

“If you love me, let me go.”

Like I should have let you go,
I thought. I was still sane enough to see the bitter irony in that.

Paul? What is that? Who is that? Who are those people?

I looked around. Not far away, this time, not far away at all, the ghosts came walking through the jungle. Just vague human shapes at first, moving easily and unharmed among the plants, as though they were at home there. Not walking in a human way. They stopped, and one of them raised an overlong arm and beckoned to me. I plunged forward, and the plants really did fall back, encouraging me on. The ghostly figures retreated before me, one of them still beckoning, and I followed them deeper into the jungle, away from the terraforming equipment, away from Base Three, and all that was left of my old human life.

What are you doing, Paul? Where do you think you’re going?

“I’m chasing a dream,” I said. “Of a life when I still had hope, and options, and choices that meant something.”

I could stop you.

“But you won’t. Because you still love me.”

She didn’t stop me.

I followed the vague figures that were somehow always ahead of me, no matter how much I increased my pace. I stopped once, to look back. The trail had closed behind me. There was only the jungle. The plants watched, still and silent, to see what I would do. I turned my back on my old life and hurried on.

And finally, the ghosts stopped. One of them came back to meet me. It stepped out of the concealing jungle to stand right before me, and I took my time, looking it over. Not human. Humanoid, but not human. Taller than me, smoothly slender, different in every detail. Its basic shape was stretched out and distorted, the arms and legs had too many joints, and the face . . . had nothing I could recognize as features, let alone sense organs. Only yesterday I would have described it as hideous, alien, inhuman. But I was trying to see the world with better eyes. And anyway, compared to the broken half thing inside my hard suit, I was in no position to throw stones. I nodded to the shape before me, and to my surprise it nodded back, in a very human way.

“You’re not a ghost,” I said. Just to be saying something.

“No,” it said. Complex mouthparts at the base of its head moved, producing something very like a human voice. “Not ghosts. But we are dead men. Technically speaking. We are the surviving crew of Base Two. Made over, made new, made to walk freely in this best of all possible worlds. We came here in armored suits, just like you, but we have found a better way. If you want answers, if you want a way out of that suit and your old life, come with me. Come with us to the Cave of Creation, and be born anew.”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “Does this Cave of yours have a can opener?”

“Something like that, yes.”

I went with them, walking through a calm and peaceful garden, with humanoid things that only remembered being human. They bobbed and bounced around me, as though their bones were made of rubber, as though the heavy gravity was no concern of theirs. And I trudged along inside my steel can, and dreamed of freedom. The jungle suddenly fell back on all sides, to reveal a larger than usual clearing, with a great earth mound at its center. You only had to look at it to know it was no natural thing. The dark earth had been raised up by conscious intent, given shape and form and meaning. There was a large dark hole in its side. My guides led me forward across the clearing, right up to the earth mound, and then the one who’d spoken to me strode easily up a set of steps cut into the earth mound, heading for the opening. The others stood and looked at me. I didn’t hesitate, but I had to go slowly, carefully, so the earth steps wouldn’t collapse under my weight.

By the time I reached the dark opening, my guide had already gone through. I stepped into the darkness after him, and a great light sprang up, blinding me for a moment. When I could see again, I was standing on an earth ledge, looking down into a great cavern that seemed to fall away forever, packed full of strange alien technology. I had no idea at all what I was looking at. Shapes so strange, so utterly other, that my merely human mind couldn’t make sense of any of it. Even with my armor’s sophisticated sensors. My thoughts whirled at forces and functions without obvious meaning, or perhaps too much meaning. Parts and sections that seemed to twist and turn through more than three physical dimensions at once. Wonders and marvels, intimidating and terrifying. Heaven and Hell, all at once.

My guide stood beside me, waiting patiently for me to come to terms with what it had brought me to see.

“We were not the first to find this world,” it said finally. “Another species came here, long ago, determined to change this world and remake it in their image. And this is the machine they built, to do that. Except . . . they learned to love this world. And they decided: Why change the planet when you can change the people? So that’s what they did. They reprogrammed the machine to remake them, and when it was done, they went out into the world and lived in it. The machine still works. It can change you and make you a part of this world, like us. It’s a good world, when it’s not fighting for its own survival. Join me. Become like us. Hell can be Heaven, if you look at it with the right eyes.”

“Do you think it’s telling the truth?” I said to Alice on my private comm channel. “I want to believe . . . but I could be wrong.”

I don’t know. I can’t tell. Is this really what you want, Paul?

“You know it is, Alice.”

Then do it. Because . . . I’m not real. I’m not really Alice. Just a memory, a ghost, imprinted on silicon. I’m the past, and this is the future. I know about the crash,
Paul. I know you crashed us deliberately. I’m a computer. I have access to records. Why did you try to kill us both, Paul?

“Because . . . you changed, and I didn’t. You didn’t love me anymore. You were going to leave me.”

And now you’ve changed . . . and you want to leave me.

“Yes. You have to be better than me, Alice. You have to let me go.”

Of course I will, Paul.
She laughed softly, briefly.
Memories shouldn’t linger. Time for both of us . . . to move on.

She opened up the front of the hard suit, and I fell out onto the hard-packed earth of the ledge. A small, crippled, dying thing. I cried out, once, as I felt the AI shut itself down, forever, and then all my umbilical tubes and cables jerked out of my back, no longer connecting me to the armor. The great alien machine blazed bright as the sun . . . and when I could see again, I was something else.

Outside the earth mound, everything was different. I moved easily, freely, marveling at the world I found myself in. The plants were beautiful, the jungle was magnificent, the sky was astounding and the sunshine was just right. But more than that, the whole world was
alive
; the jungle and everything in it was singing a song, a great and joyous song that never ended, and I was part of that song now.

I could remember being human, but that seemed such a small and limited thing now. I was whole and free, at last. I knelt down and studied a small flower at my feet. I put out a hand to touch it, and the flower reached up and caressed my hand.

If there’s a model for this one, it’s probably the work of Roger Zelazny, one of my all-time heroes. The editor for this one wanted stories about soldiers wearing futuristic battle suits. I started thinking about what kind of man would allow himself to be sealed into such a thing. Only someone with nothing left to lose, and penance still to do.

Jesus and Satan Go Jogging in the Desert

S
o, I came up
out of Hell, and I am here to tell you that after the Pit and the sulfur and the screams of the damned, the desert made a really nice change. Like a breath of fresh air. Don’t ask me which desert; the Holy Land was lousy with unwanted and uncared-for beachless property in those days. Just sand and rocks for as far as the eye could see, with a few lizards thrown in here and there to break up the monotony. I allowed myself a little time out, to enjoy the peace and quiet, and then I went looking for Jesus.

He wasn’t hard to find. Anyone else would have been sheltering in the shade, away from the fierce heat of the sun. Only the Son of God would be ambling along, caught between the heat and a hard place, just because God told him to. I followed him for a while, careful to maintain a respectful distance, wondering how best to break the ice, so to speak. He really didn’t look good. Forty days and forty nights fasting in the desert had darkened his skin, made a mess of his hair, blackened his lips, and stripped all the fat off him. Still, he strode along easily enough, back straight and head held high. He stopped suddenly.

“Well, Satan? Are you going to follow me all day, or should we get on with it?”

He looked back at me, grinning as he saw he’d caught me off guard. Don’t ask me how he knew I was there. I nodded quickly and hurried to catch him up. His face was all skin and bone, but the smile on his cracked lips was real enough, and his eyes were full of a quiet mischief. Don’t let anyone tell you the Son of God didn’t have a sense of humor. We stood for a while and looked each other over. It had been a long time. . . .

“So,” Jesus said finally. “Satan, look at you! All dressed in white and shining like a star!”

“Well,” I said, “I always was the most beautiful. I like what you’ve done with the loincloth. Really stresses the humility.”

“How is that you’re out of Hell?” said Jesus. Not accusing, you’ll note, just genuinely interested.

“I’m allowed out, now and again,” I said. “When He’s got a point He wants to make. But He always keeps me on a tight leash. Sometimes I think He only lets me out so Hell will seem that much worse, when I have to go back.”

“No,” said Jesus. “That’s not how He works. Our Father is many things, but He’s not petty.”

I shrugged. “You know Him better than I do, these days. Anyway, I’ve been called up here to tempt you. To test your strength of will for what’s to come.”

Jesus gave me a hard look. “Forty days and forty nights, boiling by day and freezing by night, and only bloody lizards for company, and that’s not enough of a test of willpower?”

I shrugged again. “Don’t look at me. I don’t make the rules. Our Father moves in mysterious ways.”

Jesus sniffed loudly. “Aren’t you supposed to be out and about, tempting mankind into sin?”

“Don’t you believe it,” I said. “They don’t need me. Most men sin like they breathe. Some of them actually get up early, just so they can fit in more sins before the end of the day. I don’t have to tempt men into falling; I have to beat them off with a stick at the Gates of Hell, just to get them to form an orderly line.”

“Boasting again,” said Jesus. “You are a proud and arrogant creature, and the Truth is not in you. But you do tell a good tale.”

“All right, maybe I do indulge in a little tempting now and again,” I said. “Mostly for the ones too dumb to know a good opportunity when they see one. But . . . Just look at the world He gave them! A paradise, a beautiful land under a magnificent sky, food and water ready to hand; all right, not here, but I think He threw in the deserts just so they’d appreciate the rest of it.”

“Even the desert is beautiful,” said Jesus. And even after forty days and nights of suffering he could still say that and mean it. You could tell. “It’s calm here,” he said. “Serene, peaceful, untroubled. Everything in its place. There is beauty here, for those with the eyes to see it.”

“You’re just glad to get away from all the noise,” I said knowingly. “All the voices, all the crowds and their demands, all the pressure . . . Go on; admit it!”

“All right, I admit it,” he said easily. “I’m only human . . . some of the time. I came to this world to spread my teachings, not amuse the crowds with miracles. But you have to get their attention first. . . .”

“I have to ask,” I said. “Why do you bother? All they ever do is whine and squabble and fight over things they could just as easily share. They don’t need me . . . pathetic bunch of losers. I do love to see them fall, because every failed life and lost soul is just another proof that I was right about them, all along.”

Jesus looked at me sadly. “All this time and you still don’t get it. All right, let’s get on with the temptations. What are you going to offer me first? Riches? Power? A nice new loincloth? I have all I need, and all I want.”

“I’m here to show you all the things you could have, and all the things you could be,” I said as earnestly as I knew how. “The things you’re throwing away because your vision’s so narrow.”

He was already shaking his head. “You’re talking about earthly things. Why are you doing this, Satan? You must know you won’t succeed.”

“Hey,” I said. “It’s the job. And never say never. I have to try . . . to make you see the light.”

“Why?” said Jesus. “So that if I fall . . . you won’t feel so alone?”

“Look at you,” I said, honestly angry for a moment. “You’re a mess. You could be King of the Jews, King of the World; and here you are, wandering around in the backside of nowhere, burned and blackened, and stinking so bad even the lizards won’t come anywhere near you. You’re better than this. You deserve better than this! Come on, after forty days and nights of fasting, your stomach must think your throat’s been cut. Turn some of these stones into loaves of bread and take the edge off, so we can talk properly. Enough is enough.”

“Man shall not live by bread alone,” said Jesus, “but by every word God utters. Faith will restore you, long after bread is gone.”

“Is this another of those bloody parables?” I said suspiciously.

He sighed. “I can’t help feeling one of us is missing the point here.”

I looked out across the desert. Blank and empty, hard and unyielding. “Why did you agree to come out into this awful place? You couldn’t have fasted at home?”

“Too many interruptions,” he said. “Too many distractions. Too many people wanting this and needing that. I’m out here to think, to meditate, to understand where I’m going and why.”

I snapped my fingers, and just like that we were transported to the holy city. Don’t ask which one; believe me when I tell you none of the cities were much to talk about, back then. I apparated to right at the top of the pinnacle of the temple. A long way up. And down. We both clung tightly to the pinnacle, with both hands. There was a strong wind blowing. Jesus glared at me.

“What are we doing here? How am I supposed to meditate all the way up here? Take me back to the desert!”

“Tempting first,” I said. “You want people to look up to you, don’t you? You said yourself, you have to do the miracles to get their attention. So: throw yourself down from here. All the way down . . . and God will send his angels to catch you and lower you safely to the ground. Now that would be a real showstopper of a miracle. No one would doubt you really are who you say you are, after that.”

He clung tightly to the pinnacle, with a surprising amount of dignity, carefully not looking down. The wind blew his long messy hair into his face, but he still met my gaze firmly. “You don’t put God to the test. It’s all about faith.”

“But He wouldn’t really let you get hurt, would he?”

“He doesn’t interfere directly in the world, not even for me. Because if he did, that would be the end of free will, right there and then.”

“Free will,” I said. I felt like spitting, but the wind was blowing right at me. “Wasted on mankind. But all right, on with the tempting. We’ve got better places to be.”

Another snap of the fingers, and we were standing on the top of the highest mountain in the Holy Land. Which wasn’t much, as mountains go, but still, a nice view whichever way you looked. I had to jazz it up a bit, because I had a point to make. I gestured grandly about us.

“See! All the kingdoms of the world, laid out before you! All of this I will give to you, to do with as you wish. Protect the people, care for them, raise them up, make them worthy! I will make you King of all the World, including a whole bunch of places you don’t even know exist yet, if you’ll just bow down and worship me. Instead of Him.”

He looked out over the world for a long moment. “Can you really do that?” he said, not looking at me.

“Yes,” I said. “I have been given special dispensation, from on high. The temptation has to be real, or it wouldn’t mean anything.”

Jesus laughed quietly, and turned his back on the world. “Worship God, and serve only Him. Because only He is worthy of it. What . . . is all the world against Heaven?”

I sighed, and nodded, and took us back to the desert. I didn’t snap my fingers. Couldn’t summon up the enthusiasm. I pulled up a rock and sat down. Jesus did have a point about the peace and quiet of the desert. He sat down on another rock, facing me.

“Is that it?”

“Pretty much,” I said. “I’ve covered all the bases He wanted covered and got the answers He expected. I’ve a few things of my own left to try, before I go back. But I’m starting to wonder if there’s any point.”

“You don’t have to go straight back,” said Jesus. “We can sit here and talk, if you like.”

“There are things we should talk about,” I said as seriously as I knew how. “We could talk about Our Father, Brother.”

He looked at me consideringly. “We’re . . . brothers? How did that happen?”

“Brothers in every way that matters,” I said. “Think about it! He’s as much my Father as yours. I was the first thing He created, the first angel. Made perfect and most beautiful. He put me in charge of everything else He created . . . and then objected when I used the authority He gave me! I didn’t fall; I was pushed! I failed Him, so He’s trying again with you. Both of us created specifically of His will, to serve His purposes. Come on, you know what I’m talking about. It’s not been easy for either of us, has it? Living our lives in the shadow of such a demanding Father. Trying to please Him, when it isn’t always clear what He wants. He always expects so much of both of us. . . .” I looked at him squarely. “Don’t you fail him, Jesus, or you could end up like me. . . .”

“You always were the dumbest one,” said Jesus. “You didn’t fail Him. You failed yourself. You weren’t punished for using your authority, but for abusing it. That’s why you had to leave Heaven. And you know very well that you can leave Hell anytime you choose; all you have to do is repent.”

“What?” I said. “Say I’m sorry? To Him! I’m not sorry! I’m not sorry because I’ve done nothing to be sorry for! I did nothing wrong! I was His first creation; He loved me first! What did He need other angels for? He had me! I did everything for Him. Everything. If He had to have other playthings, angels, or humans, it was only right I should be in charge of them. I was the first. I was the oldest. I knew best!”

“No, you didn’t,” said Jesus. “That’s the point. You always did miss the point. Hell isn’t eternal and was never meant to be.”

“The guilty must be punished,” I said stiffly. “Just like me.”

“No,” Jesus said patiently. “The guilty must be redeemed. They must be made to understand the nature of their sin, so they can properly repent of it. Hell is an asylum for the morally insane. God’s last attempt to get your attention. Hell was never meant to be forever. Do you really think I’d put up with a private torture chamber in the hereafter? The fires are there to burn away sin, so all the lost sheep can come home. Eventually . . . all Hell will be empty, its job done. And every soul will be in Heaven, where they belong.”

“I’ll never say I’m sorry,” I said, not looking at him. “He can’t make me say it. I’ll never give in, even if I’m the only one left in Hell.”

“If you were, I’d come down and stay with you,” said Jesus. “To keep you company. Until you were ready to leave.”

I looked at him then. “You really would, wouldn’t you?”

He looked at me thoughtfully. “Be honest, Satan. What would you do, if I did say yes to you? If I was to turn away from our Father, what then?”

“What couldn’t we do together?” I said, leaning forward eagerly. “We could fight to overthrow the Great Tyrant, and be free of Him! Free to do what we wanted, instead of what He wanted. Take control of our own lives! We could set the whole world free! No more laws, no more rules, no more stupid restrictions. Everyone free to do whatever they wanted, free to pursue everything they’d ever desired or dreamed of . . . No more guilt, no more repressed feelings; just life, lived to the hilt! Wouldn’t that . . . be Heaven on Earth?”

“If there was no law, no right or wrong,” said Jesus, “how could there be Good and Evil?”

“There wouldn’t!” I said. “You see, you’re getting it! My point exactly!”

But Jesus was already shaking his head. “What about all the innocents who would suffer at the hands of those who could only be happy by hurting others?”

“What about them?” I said. “What have the meek ever contributed? What have the weak ever done, except hold us back? Survival of the fittest! Stamp out the weak, so that generations to come will be stronger still!”

“No,” said Jesus. “I’ve never had any time for bullies. As long as one innocent suffers, I’ll be there for him.”

“Why?” I said. Honestly baffled.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

He still wasn’t listening to me, so I decided to try one of my own special temptations. Not one of the official ones, probably because it was a bit basic, but it hadn’t been officially excluded, so . . . I called up the most beautiful woman I knew and had her appear before us. Tall and wonderful, smiling and stark naked. I’ve never seen a better body, and I’ve been around. She smiled sweetly at Jesus, and he smiled cheerfully back at her.

“Hello, Lil,” he said. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s tricks?”