by Arthur C.
“Yes, indeed,” Vivien said with a smile.
“God has blessed you, Brother Johann,” Sister Beatrice said. “He must have some very important work for you.”
Johann shifted uneasily in his chair. The three of them had been sitting in Beatrice’s small office to the side of the altar for ten minutes. Johann had told shorter versions of his two encounters and Sister Beatrice had asked a few perceptive questions. He had answered awkwardly, for he was still in awe of this young woman with the radiant, smiling face, clear eyes that seemed to be peering into his very soul, and a singing voice that was incomparably beautiful. And she was the bishop of the Order of St. Michael, in charge of all church affairs on Mars! How can she be real? Johann asked himself as the long silence continued.
“So what do you think of Sister Beatrice’s explanation?” Vivien asked, attempting to start the conversation again.
“That the particle clouds are angels?” Johann said. He wanted to be polite. “I guess it’s possible,” he continued, remembering his own thoughts in the hotel room. “Frankly, I never even considered that possibility until today.”
He looked at Beatrice almost apologetically. “You see, I’ve never been very religious. At least not in the strict sense of the word. My family was Lutheran, like most northern Germans, but we didn’t go to church regularly and didn’t pray at home. I’ve always believed in God, of course, but not necessarily a personal God, who follows what you’re doing on a day-to-day basis.”
Johann paused. Neither of the priestesses said anything. “As for angels, I guess I’ve never thought much about them… I think we discussed them in my medieval history course at the university.” He smiled. “And I certainly remember Lucifer from Milton’s Paradise Lost.”
There was another silence. Johann continued uncertainly, “As I said, it’s possible that the particles are angels…”
“But that’s not what you think right now, is it, Brother Johann?” Beatrice said. “I have not convinced you.
“I must say, Sister Beatrice, that most of your references to biblical angels and others that appeared to the various saints went right over my head. Your argument sounded compelling, and I have no doubt that you have done all the proper research…”
“So if the particles are not God’s messengers, Brother Johann,” Beatrice said, her eyes fixed on his, “what are they? Tell us your explanation.”
Johann shrugged. “I don’t have one, Sister Beatrice… No explanation makes much sense to me.”
Beatrice rose from her chair and walked over behind her desk. She turned on her computer, made a few entries, and printed out a list of books and journal articles, complete with page numbers. “What I have here, Brother Johann,” she said, “is the primary set of source material I studied before I concluded that the particles were angels. I didn’t just jump to that conclusion because the shape they took when they appeared to Vivien was so obvious. I can have copies of the articles made, if you would like, and I invite you to determine for yourself if my thinking has been ‘logical,’ to use a word that was bandied about in this room not too long ago.”
“Sister Beatrice, I must be honest with you,” Johann said after quickly scanning the list. “I’m an engineer with a scientific background. Even if I read all this material, I don’t think there’s any way I could ever actively embrace the idea that the bright particles I saw are angels sent by God… It’s just not consistent with who I am.”
“Are you saying that you don’t have an open mind?” Sister Beatrice said immediately.
“No… Well, maybe,” Johann said. He laughed slightly. “I see your point. By the way, since you seem to have everything figured out, have you come up with any explanation of why the particles formed into a ball and bopped me on the faceplate?”
Beatrice crossed the room, knelt beside Johann’s chair, and put her hand on his forearm. “Their behavior is very easy to understand,” she said, her eyes burning with intensity. “Your angel was trying to wake you up, to snap you out of your complacency. You were granted a visit in the Tiergarten almost two years ago, and yet you have done nothing to show God that you understand you have been singled out for some special endeavor; The second apparition, Brother Johann, and the literal ‘bop on the head,’ as you call it, was to signal you that your special tasks are still waiting, and that it’s time for you to discover them.”
Johann stared at the earnest face only a meter away from his. He could not think of anything to say. He just kept thinking, This is the most incredible woman I have ever met.
Johann temporarily forgot about his rendezvous at the Balcony. In fact, at first he agreed to come back to the Michaelite church that evening and help Sister Vivien and the other members of the order serve Christmas dinner to the multitudes. His reasons for agreeing, however, were not altruistic. Vivien had told him that Sister Beatrice was going to sing during the services after dinner, and Johann desperately wanted to hear that beautiful voice again.
Of course he did not tell Vivien what his “other appointment” really was. Lying in the bathtub in his hotel room before dressing for the evening, Johann was a little ashamed that he was going to be indulging himself sexually while the brethren of the Order of St. Michael were going to be feeding the hungry. But how can I not go now? Johann asked himself. I have already paid the seven hundred and fifty dollars. That’s a lot of money for nothing.
Several minutes later, waiting in front of his hotel for an electric taxi, Johann was full of anticipation, and just a trifle nervous. “The Other Zone, please,” he said to the driver when he climbed into the cab.
“North gate or south gate,” the taxi driver said in a monotone.
Johann consulted his map. “South gate,” he said.
The ride took fewer than ten minutes. The taxi deposited Johann in the middle of a large parking lot, near the tollgate that was the entrance to the Other Zone. Johann watched some people walk into the narrow lanes defined by the restraining bars, insert their identity cards into the appropriate slots in a small pedestal, and then push through a turnstile.
Johann had never been in the Other Zone. When Martian tourism was flourishing in the late twenties and the early thirties, the Other Zone had been, along with the spectacular Valles Marineris and the volcanoes of the Tharsis region, one of the destinations on virtually every tourist itinerary. The three large, identical signs just outside the gate told why.
WARNING
YOU ARE ENTERING AN AREA WHERE CERTAIN ACTIVITIES THAT ARE ILLEGAL ELSEWHERE IN MUTCHVILLE, NOTABLY GAMBLING, DRUG USE, PROSTITUTION, ARE PERMITTED, CONTROLLED, TAXED. HOWEVER, NO DISORDERLY CONDUCT, BEHAVIOR, OR EXCESSIVE PUBLIC DRUNKENNESS WILL BE ANYONE CONVICTED OF MISCONDUCT IN THIS WILL BE PROHIBITED FOREVER FROM RETURNING.
Next to the warning signs were smaller placards explaining that each person entering the Other Zone paid both an entry fee and an additional small charge that was a function of how long he or she remained inside.
Johann inserted his identity card and passed through the turnstile. On the other side of the gate, he was immediately accosted by four young men, each of whom offered to take him to a different brothel. They brandished lewd photographs and spoke of carnal pleasures, but Johann ignored them as he walked toward the main street leading into the business areas.
The Other Zone was a square, two kilometers on a side. Around the perimeter were residential apartments, three or four stories high in most places, that kept the sights and sounds of the zone from disturbing the rest of the residents of Mutchville. There was no vehicular traffic inside the zone. Everyone was on foot, or riding in a chair affixed to the back of a bicycle that had been remodeled.
Johann was actually somewhat disappointed when he reached the famous plaza in the center of the Other Zone. The large casinos surrounding the plaza were certainly brightly lit, but their illumination paled beside the garish neon displays that Johann had seen in Las Vegas on his one trip to the United States. He turned right at the New World Casino, as hi
s map indicated, and followed a street lined with alcohol and marijuana bars for about a hundred meters. At the end of the street Johann entered what looked like a tastefully decorated lobby in a small, prestigious European hotel.
On one side of the main reception area in the Balcony was a handsome restaurant. Beyond the counter in the lobby, which was staffed by two of the prettiest young women Johann had seen in Mutchville, there was a small bar to the right of the elevators. He glanced at the clock behind the counter and presented his identity card to one of the two pretty receptionists. She checked her computer. “You’re right on time, Mr. Eberhardt,” she then said cheerfully. “Do you want to stop in the bar first, or are you ready to proceed with your appointment?”
“I guess I’m ready,” Johann said, feeling a little foolish.
The young lady handed him a map. “Your appointment is not on-site,” she said brightly. “This map indicates where you are going. Please read it before you leave the main building. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask.”
Johann glanced at the map. The directions were easy to understand. He left the building, crossed a pair of side streets, and entered a lane in a residential section. Johann checked carefully to make certain he was in the right location before ringing the doorbell at the house indicated on the map.
A small camera, barely noticeable, was watching him from above the door. “Come in, darling,” a soft, feminine Voice said from a hidden speaker. “I’ll be down in just a minute.”
Johann heard the door click. He entered an open entryway dominated by a wooden stairway leading to the second floor. Through an open door to his right, Johann could see the living room. He went inside and sat down on the couch.
On the opposite side of the room, in the corner where it was away from the brick fireplace, a Christmas tree about two meters tall was standing. It had been carefully decorated with ornaments and popcorn strings. A star had been mounted on its very top. Underneath the tree were a dozen packages, each wrapped with a different kind of Christmas paper.
It’s perfect, Johann said to himself, the scene evoking memories of his childhood. He picked up a framed photograph from the end table beside the couch. It was a head shot of a beautiful brunette woman in her late twenties. Across the left bottom corner was written, in a broad, open script, “For Johann, with my love… Amanda.”
“I’m so glad you’re finally home, Johann,” the woman in the photograph said. She came into the room and gave him a light kiss on the lips. “But the kids will be sorry they missed you.”
Johann smiled and examined the woman standing in front of him. She was wearing a simple black dress, not fancy, but not exactly what you would find on the racks at the Mutchville Emporium either. Most of her shoulders were bare, and the dress made a V drop in front, just enough to show a little cleavage. It was made of a knitted fabric and fit her exceptional body perfectly. The dress was not, however, so tight that it would have been called risqué.
Amanda’s face was friendly and inviting. She was wearing very little makeup. Johann’s first reaction was that Amanda looked like a sophisticated, adult version of Snow White. Her hair was black and hung down below her shoulders. Around her neck was a simple gold necklace with three diamonds in the front, the middle one slightly larger than the two on either side. Matching diamond studs were in her ears.
“So,” Amanda said when it was clear from Johann’s expression that his initial examination was over, “do you want to start work right away on Peter’s train, or would you like a glass of wine first?”
“The wine, I think,” Johann said. “It’s been a long, hard day.” On the way to the kitchen, Amanda stopped for a moment and flipped on the audio system. Johann heard a choir softly singing one of his favorite Christmas songs. “Do you hear what I hear?…”
As his eyes roamed around the room again Johann noticed another framed photograph, this one on top of the piano in the far corner. At first he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He stood up and crossed the room. The picture was a family photo, taken in casual clothes, of Johann, Amanda, and two children, a blond boy of seven or eight, and a gorgeous little brunette girl of four or five!
“Oh, there you are, darling,” Amanda said. She was standing just inside the living room with two glasses of white wine.
“This is an amazing photograph,” Johann said as she walked over beside him. “I can’t imagine—”
“I have always loved that picture,” she said, gently interrupting him. “It’s the only one we have in which all four of us are smiling.” She handed him his glass of wine. “Peter already looks a lot like you, but I don’t think he’ll be as tall as you are.”
Before Johann could take a sip of his wine, Amanda touched her glass to his. “To our best Christmas ever,” she said, reaching up and giving him a kiss.
“I will certainly drink to that,” Johann replied.
They sipped wine and talked easily for half an hour. They were sitting comfortably near each other on the couch. Later Johann began to assemble the electric train and track that were his Christmas gift for his son, Peter. Amanda began to build a fire in the fireplace. Never once during the entire time did she slip out of character. She was Johann’s wife, the mother of his two children, the keeper of the hearth.
Amanda brought him another glass of wine just before his work on the train was completed. She kissed him more boldly, teasing him playfully with her tongue. Johann loved it. “Come on, now,” he said, “how do you expect me to finish this train if you’re going to distract me?”
“That’s your problem, Santa Claus,” Amanda said. She kissed him again, first on the neck, and then around the ears. “I have other things on my mind.”
Johann touched her face. He kissed her with passion for the first time and she responded perfectly, putting her hands behind his head and biting him very gently on the lower lip during the middle of their kiss.
“That was great,” he said when their long kiss was over. He was somewhat surprised by the strength of his arousal. Johann glanced at the electric train on the table in front of him. “I guess I can finish this afterward,” he said.
Amanda took Johann by the hand and led him back to the couch. She sat sideways on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, and they continued to kiss. Her kisses became more insistent, her tongue more provocative. She us-buttoned his shirt and began rubbing his left nipple, coordinating her titillations with her kisses.
“Should we go upstairs now?” he asked between kisses.
Amanda’s eyes were seductive. “I thought it would be more exciting on the floor,” she said. “In front of the fireplace.”
She kept her arms around his neck and her mouth on his as he stood up from the couch. Johann pushed aside the remaining parts of the electric train and laid Amanda down in front of the fireplace. As he was taking off his clothes he accidentally kicked some of the other presents and caused the tree to shake noisily. They both laughed.
He looked at the firelight reflected in her beautiful brown eyes. “This is wonderful,” he said.
“Merry Christmas, Johann,” she said.
6
In the months that followed, Johann’s life was full of stress. Mutchville and the rest of the Martian settlements were in a state of chaos and collapse. The infrastructure to maintain the entire human colony on Mars was rapidly deteriorating. Valhalla’s survival was in jeopardy.
Throughout his life, sleep had been one of Johann’s primary means of escaping from overwhelming problems. Unfortunately, during this period going to sleep did not offer him much relief. Indeed, his frequent dreams, still full of the people and images he had encountered during that extraordinary visit to Mutchville, became increasingly more vivid and bizarre. Eventually it became rare for Johann to sleep through the night without being awakened by a puzzling dream or a nightmare.
In one dream he was again sitting in the living room in the Balcony where he had first met Amanda. She arrived, looking magnificent, a
nd Johann felt a powerful sexual desire as they kissed. Amanda then excused herself. Johann looked away for only a second or two, and where Amanda had been in the room there was now a formation of the dancing particles, shaped like a harp. He heard the beautiful music of the particle harp. Then another woman entered. It was Sister Vivien.
“Make love to me, Johann,” Vivien said in the dream, taking off her Michaelite robe. “Sister Beatrice will not mind.”
He touched Vivien’s naked body and kissed her passionately. After a few kisses he opened his eyes and saw that Beatrice was standing less than a meter away, watching them carefully. She had a look of shock and disapproval on her face. Johann woke with a start.
Beatrice made many other appearances in Johann’s dreams. Often he would see her standing in her bishop’s robe on a distant hill. In those scenes she was always bathed in soft light. Occasionally, the Sister Beatrice in his dreams was a close friend and confidante. They would talk together for a long time and then she would sing to please him. Twice Beatrice even came to Johann during the night and sat beside him cozily on the couch in the Balcony. In those two dreams the photograph on the piano showed Johann and the two children with Beatrice, and it was her kisses that transported him into ecstasy. Johann surrendered gladly both times to the pleasure offered by his subconscious.
In real life Johann never contacted Beatrice and Vivien to find out what they had done with the faceplate he had sent to them by courier on the day he had departed from Mutchville. He had planned to surprise Beatrice and Vivien, and Darwin and Clem as well, with a visit to Mutchville in September or October of the following year. But his trip was postponed because of problems at Valhalla. Eventually it was canceled altogether.
As the economic crisis on Mars deepened Johann knew that without self-sufficiency, Valhalla had no chance of survival. He forced himself and the rest of the inhabitants of his polar outpost to work long hours preparing for the range of catastrophic events that might occur. Johann was determined that the group of humans for which he was responsible would survive the bleak months ahead.