Jesus On Mars

by Philip José Farmer

  Orme said nothing. He was beginning to wonder if he was wrong. And then he thought of the glowing figure by his bedside, and he became stronger.

  The fifth day, Jesus again asked for permission to land.

  'Oh, you men of little mind and even less faith! Why must you harden your hearts? What must I do to convince you that I am indeed the Anointed of Heaven?

  'Whoever believes in me does not believe in me but in Him who sent me. And he who sees me sees Him who has sent me. I have come as a light to the world that everyone who believes in me should not remain in darkness. You Children of Darkness, you can become Sons and Daughters of Light. But you must unstiffen your necks and soften your hearts!'

  All of his talks had been in English, delivered with no trace of Krsh or Hebrew pronunciation. The accent was Orme's Toronto Canadian, undoubtedly learned from recordings of his speech while he was on Mars. Millions of non- English speakers would be able to understand him, but for those who wouldn't subtitles or verbal translations were provided in the languages which Bronski and Shirazi knew: Hebrew, Arabic, Hindustani, Mandarin Chinese, Swahili, Spanish, French, German, Italian, Farsi, Russian, Polish, Greek and Portuguese.

  Even in the remote villages, at least one person would be able to translate the English for his fellows.

  English was still the world lingua Franca, but Orme knew that it was an interim tool. In time, Krsh would be the international language. And in time, after the inevitable period of bloody troubles, the Krsh and the Martian humans, as elder brothers, would lead Israel, the elder brother of the nations of Earth, to instruct, to change, to modify, to form. In time, the whole planet would be much like Mars, except that , .there would be ethnic and national racial differences. Though Russia would still be Russia and North America still North America and China still China, there would be no national boundaries with their customs houses, import tariffs, and armed guards. A woman would be able to walk through dark streets without fear of being robbed, beaten, or raped. Children would not be afraid to speak to strangers. The cannons and the machine-guns would be melted and made into ploughs. The oceans and the rivers and the brooks would be cleansed. And in time the Kingdom of Heaven would be established, although there still would be contrariness and evil-wishing 'human nature' in some people. But, though Earth wouldn't be Utopia, it would be as close to it as human nature allowed.

  This image of the future was very attractive. Why then did Orme feel heavy of heart? Was it because the Kingdom was being forced on Earth and, though the end was desirable, the means meant bloody strife and suffering for many? The people of Earth had gone through strife and anguish and violent death ever since the first man had walked over the veldt or prowled through the jungle. There seemed to be no way of ending all this until now, and if it wasn't for Jesus and his people there would be no end. Surely, the end, in this case, did justify the means.

  But if this Jesus was the Antichrist, then the ends would not be what they were supposed to be.

  Orme sent up a silent prayer to the real Jesus.

  'Help me, Lord. Rid me of my weaknesses, make me strong.'

  Two hours later, word was received from Jerusalem. A mob had stormed the Knesset and demanded that the Messiah be allowed to land. In the mob were many police and soldiers who had thrown down their arms and joined their fellows. The prime minister and half of his cabinet and a third of the parliament had resigned. Despite the illegitimacy of the procedure, the rest of the Knesset had issued the invitation. However, an extension of time was asked for. Many heads of states wished to be on hand when the ship arrived, but it would take time to fly to Jerusalem. Also, the necessary security couldn't be set up until tomorrow. Would that be permitted?

  Jesus graciously said that he would wait one more day.

  'But I will not forget that there are many among you who have hardened their hearts against me. And there are many who have not said that they are against me or for me. Whoever does not declare himself for me is against me. Woe to the hard of heart and the neutrals!'

  That night Orme prayed again, hoping that his Lord would show himself once more. But He did not.

  24

  The Maranatha was to land at noon. Early in the morning, however, Rabbi Ram Weisinger, the prime minister pro tem, called the ship. Under his black hat he was sweating.

  'Master, we beg you to wait for still another day. The crowds are so great that we must call in more troops. We can't guarantee your safety. Many evil men, Moslem, Christian, and Jewish, have sworn to kill you. There is no way we can screen all of them out, though we've made many arrests.'

  'Do not worry about them,' Jesus said. 'I cannot be killed.'

  Weisinger's eyes widened, and his expression was strange. But he did not protest.

  At 10:00, the three Marsnauts received instructions from Hfathon on their part in the day's activities after landing. Orme asked no questions, and when he was dismissed, went at once to his cabin. Shirazi and Bronski did not come with him.

  At 11:30 he was supposed to be in the large room next to the central starboard lock. The instructions had ended at 10:30, giving him a little less than an hour to do what he hoped he would have the courage to do. He got down on his knees and prayed for guidance. When he rose, his heart was still beating hard and his stomach was clenched.

  He sat down on the edge of his bunk and placed a large copy of a Krsh translation of the Holy Writings on his knees. Using this as a desk, he wrote quickly a three-page letter, making no corrections. He signed and dated all three pages and placed on each his right-hand fingerprints. After the ink was dry, he folded the letter into a compact bundle and stuck it in an inside pocket of his uniform.

  At 10:45, he left the cabin. Instead of heading towards the middle-level main lounge, where his compatriots and many off-duty officers were, he walked towards the aft. At approximately 10:55, he found his victim, a private coming out of a room he shared with nine others. It was empty, the soldier was alone, and there was no one else in sight. Orme, disliking intensely the violence he was subjecting the man to, slugged him with his fist on the side of the head, punched him in the belly as he staggered back, and then gave him a judo chop across the neck. After dragging the unconscious private outside the room, he removed his laser gun from his holster.

  At 11:05 he left the room. The soldier was still senseless, his mouth gagged and taped, his legs and hands taped, lying on the floor under a bunk. His sergeant would note that he wasn't present, but it was doubtful that he'd send someone after him. He'd note down his name for punishment afterwards. Still, it was best to make sure that no one would investigate. Having learned the soldier's name, rank and unit from his insignia, Orme located his sergeant through the intercom.

  'Private Yokhanan ben-Obed has been assigned to me,' Orme told him. 'It was decided that I should have a Hebrew interpreter with me, and so I picked him.'

  'Very well, sir,' the sergeant said.

  The Martian army was just like any other. You didn't question the orders of a higher-up.

  At 11:15 Orme entered the designated room. Jesus had exchanged his blue robe for a scarlet. Since this was the first time Orme had seen him in this colour, he wondered why the switch had been made. Then he recalled that, shortly before Jesus had been crucified, he had been dressed in a scarlet robe by the authorities. He must have chosen this colour to remind the Earthmen of this. He also could have put on a crown of thorns and carried a cane, which the Roman soldiers had first given him and then taken away to strike him over the head. But that would be too theatrical even for this dramatic man.

  Jesus, who was talking with some officers, gave Orme a strange look as he entered. Orme sweated even more heavily. Could he detect that his disciple was nervous? Or could he even know all? He'd once said that he could read minds, though he never permitted himself to do so. In this instance, noting Orme's expression, though Orme was trying to look normal, perhaps registering the emotions inside him - by the electrical fields on Orme's skin? - had Jesus br
oken his rule?

  If so, all was lost. But since Jesus said nothing to him or to the officers, he must not think anything was gravely wrong. After all, everybody here, except the Messiah, was nervous. They were also feeling fatigued, since the Martian gravity field had been cut off, and they were subject to that of Earth. It would take them a long time to get accustomed to their increased weight, three-fifths more than that of their native planet. However, they would soon ride in vehicles enclosed in a field equivalent to that of Mars, and all, except the Master, wore a belt to which was attached an adjustable gravity unit. When the strain got too much for them, they would switch that on.

  That device alone was worth a fortune here, Orme thought, and he smiled wryly. Even now, he was speculating on the fortunes to be made from the sale of Martian artefacts.

  'Ah, Lord, forgive me.'

  The lock swung open. Bright, harsh sunlight, hot air, and the roar of a mob poured in. Jesus stepped out first and paused a moment. Those behind halted. He lifted up a hand and said, loudly, 'May the Creator, our Father, bless you, children of Earth and Mars alike!'

  Awaiting him were a regiment of soldiers, squads of policemen, an honour guard, many TV crews, and perhaps five hundred dignitaries. Around the field and lining the road from it, people covered the low hills and the roofs of houses. They roared as he stepped out, roared so loudly that they could not have heard his greeting. But the microphones of the TV men must have picked them up.

  Orme came out with the others then. There was much confusion for a while. Jesus had to meet and exchange a few words with the assembled heads of state. He held out his hand, not to be shaken but to be kissed. Sheila Pal, the president of the NAC, did not hesitate, though she must have been aware that millions of her constituents would be enraged. Neither did the Italian ambassador, though the Pope had denounced the Messiah and his government was officially Communist. To kiss Jesus's hand would, theoretically, offend the majority of the populace, still devout Roman Catholic, and also the officially atheistic high-state officials. But the government had announced that its ambassador was sent only to greet the head of a foreign state, Mars. The Messiah's religion had nothing to do with political protocol.

  Most of the other Communist nations and many of the socialist democracies had adopted this line. China and the southeastern Asiatic nations had sent no representative, but India, though Communist, was represented by its president and prime minister. The Soviet ambassador to Israel had been given instructions, obviously, to follow the example of Italy. Hand-kissing was excepted, since no self-respecting atheistic Marxian would emulate this capitalistic opiate- of-the-masses custom. But when Anatoly Shevchenko extended his hand to grip Jesus's, the Russian was not only kissing his hand, he was down on his knees.

  Speaking English, he said, 'Master, forgive me! I doubted, but now I know that you are indeed the Messiah and that there is a God! Forgive me my sins, which are many, and allow me to take sanctuary with you!'

  Jesus said, 'You are forgiven, and you will hereafter be at my right side. Though you are not of the seed of Abraham, you are a son of those with whom the Creator made a covenant in the time of Noah. Rise, and from now on bend your knees only when you pray to the Presence.'

  Orme was as shocked as the others, though not so much that he could not imagine the effect of this unexpected conversion behind the Iron Curtain. Or, for that matter, on this side of it. Every TV set was showing this; what a sensation it must be causing!

  Surely the ambassador, though probably a third-generation Marxist atheist, had had some doubts. He may have been as unaware of them as St Paul was when he was persecuting the Christians. But, like Paul, he had been overwhelmed without warning. Paul had his road to Damascus; the ambassador, his road to. Jerusalem.

  Or, and here Orme cursed himself for his ever-present suspicions, had the ambassador been given instructions by his government to pretend to this conversion? Then he could spy on Jesus. But the Soviets would be aware of the tremendous impact this public defection would make on the world. Would they dare to risk this just to plant an agent? It didn't seem likely.

  Orme felt even more doubtful and weakened, physically and emotionally. This man, or being, spoke and acted as if with authority from God Himself. Yet, the Antichrist would seem to be good, to be, in fact, Christ Himself. Only by its fruit could you judge the tree. The Antichrist must be judged by the long-term results of his actions. But, so far, the Martian Jesus had done nothing the real Jesus would not do.

  In time, the fruit would be ripe for the plucking. Then anyone with a good heart might see who was who, what was what.

  Orme wondered if he should wait, should put off what he'd planned for this day. He hadn't given the so-called Messiah enough time to reveal the evil behind the seeming good. The seed should be allowed to grow until, instead of food, the harvest was weeds.

  'Oh, Lord,' Orme thought, 'let me not take the road to the right nor to the left. Let me go straight ahead on the road that leads to Your beloved city.'

  He looked around, and, seeing a familiar face, felt joy. Was this man's presence here a sign from God? It was Jack Tarlatti, a well-known TV- documentary producer and newsman.

  Orme strolled over to him, aware that two Martian soldiers were watching him. But they would be doing so only to ensure his security. He grabbed Tarlatti by the hand and said, 'Jack, my old drinking buddy, my blessing and my cross! There were times I thought I'd never see you again! How are you?' Tarlatti, feeling the compactly bundled letter in his hand, quit smiling.

  Orme said, 'Just take it. Put it in your pocket when no one's looking. Read it after you get back to your hotel. It's self-explanatory. Do as I say, please, Jack. It'll be the biggest scoop you ever had.'

  Tarlatti, trying to smile as widely as before, said, 'Sure. Anything you say, Dick. How about an interview right now?'

  Orme looked around. Azzur, Jesus's secretary, was gesturing at him to come immediately. Obviously, he was wanted for the greeting of the dignitaries.

  Orme clapped Tarlatti on the shoulder. 'Sorry, I'm too busy right now. Sure good to see you, Jack. Have to run now.'

  As he walked away he hoped that Tarlatti's curiosity would not overcome him. He must not read that letter until what had to be done had been done.

  After what seemed to Orme an interminable time, the greetings and the diplomatic compliments ended. From the Maranatha issued thirty large canoelike vessels. Into these the Martians and a number of honoured Terrestrial guests seated themselves. The lead vehicle contained the pilot, Jesus, the Russian ambassador, the Israeli prime minister, the three Marsnauts, the fleet admiral, Jesus's secretary, and the presidents of the NAC, Uganda, and West Germany. Orme thought that the selection of the last three was curious, but he didn't doubt that Jesus knew exactly what he was doing.

  The procession started with squads of motorcycle police and an armoured car leading. Behind them was a car with a TV crew and three cars of Israeli secret service men. Then Jesus's vehicle, two cars of more secret service personnel, then the Martian vehicles, then the cars with the Israeli and visiting dignitaries and behind them more secret service men, uniformed policemen, and soldiers. On both sides of the parade soldiers kept the crowd from pressing in or attempted to do so. The heat and the tumult were almost overwhelming. So great was the noise that Orme could not hear Bronski when he shouted something at him.

  The plan was that the procession would go first to the Wailing Wall. There Jesus would pray for a few minutes. After that, he would to go the Knesset and make a short televised speech, and then to the new King David Hotel which would be occupied only by the Martians and several hundred security men.

  Orme felt the butt of the laser under his baggy uniform. When he got to the Wailing Wall and Jesus got out, he would use the weapon. The whole world would see Richard Orme, captain of the Marsnauts, a recent convert to the Jesus of Mars, draw the laser and shoot the ray into him. Orme did not expect to live long afterwards. Nor was he sure that Jesus woul
d be hurt. If he was indeed the energy-being, he would absorb the energy of the laser beam. If he were not the energy-being but the Antichrist - though they might be one and the same - he still might be invulnerable. A man who could walk in an atomic reactor, as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego had walked in the furnace, would not be touched even by the ravening fire of a laser. On the other hand, if he were just a man, he might not have entered the reactor. He might have just pretended to do so.

  In any event, the whole world, Earth and Mars, would see Richard Orme try to kill the Messiah. It might even hear his words of denunciation, though there was little likelihood of this. But Jack Tarlatti would produce his letter, and then everybody would know the truth. Whether they chose to believe it or not was in the hands of God.

  At least, he, Richard Orme, would have done what God would want him to do. He would die a martyr for the true faith. The world would see, though it might not fully understand until later, that a man who had walked and talked with this Jesus did not believe that he was the true Jesus. And the man who did not believe this was an Earthman. Therefore, other people of Earth might conclude that one of their own knew the truth and, knowing it, had acted as his conscience told him to act.

  Or would his act be misinterpreted? Would he be called a Judas Iscariot?

  It did not matter. He had to do what was right.

  Gulthilo would be very hurt and very ashamed when she saw this. Perhaps she and their child would be disgraced, even though they had no blame. He grieved because of this, but he still must act.

  He was thinking of this when the vehicle came over the top of a hill and the sprawling city of Jerusalem was in view. There it is, he thought. How differently I feel now. On Mars I had been in ecstasy envisioning the return of Jesus to the city that had crucified him. But then I did not know that the Jesus who was nailed to the cross was not the Jesus who returned two thousand years later in triumph.