"Mason. Blake Paul Mason."
"Paul, that's a Biblical name. What is your affiliation?"
"You mean what church do I go to? What difference does that make?"
The colonel shrugged. "Just a casual question, Mr. Mason. But your attitude surprises me. Are you an atheist?" The last question was more firmly and suspiciously put.
"No." The questions seemed to have a deeper meaning than Blake was able to discern. The officer on the landing field had been much more agitated over the answers he had received, but Calkins seemed to be a more skilled interrogator. "I have no religious affiliation." Blake felt that a further response was needed, for Calkins just looked at him. "I – we've – been in the cryogenic vaults for over a hundred years. Churches, religions could change. We would have to look around, I'm sure."
Calkins did not change expression. "Tell me the whole story from the beginning," he said, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms.
Blake told it as quickly as he could, from Voss's original commission to the approach of the jet planes.
Calkins seemed lost in thought "We will check on that. Your friend Voss seems reluctant to disclose the coordinates of the cryogenic tomb, but Sister Meeker will be back from a testimony at the Capitol Reef Congregation this evening. She is our expert in interrogation."
Blake shivered. Delivered even casually, his words still had a terrifying effect. Our interrogation expert. To Blake that title smacked of the ancient Gestapo and the female torturers of the Indian tribes, or perhaps one of the Mongol interrogators used by the old Russian Communist countries.
"It's not easy to describe where the tomb is exactly,"
Blake said. "I couldn't give you the exact location, myself." Voss is keeping all that gold safe, he thought. Goody for him, but what about us? "Look, Colonel, I don't know what any of this is about. I've told you why Mr. Voss decided to do what he did. What's wrong with that? He is, er, was, a very powerful man in our time. I'm sure he still is, or will be, once he takes control of all his various trusts and funds and things."
"Yes," Calkins said, "I'm sure he would be. Except research and experiments into longevity are forbidden for the good of the state."
"But we were up in Idaho, not here in Utah. You can't–"
"It is illegal everywhere. All over the globe. Even in the territory controlled by the Church of Converted Avatars, even in the land of the cursed Host of the Angels of the Earth."
"But why? Scientific research is–"
"It is forbidden." For the first time the colonel looked disturbed. "Surely even an unenlightened one from the past, such as you, can see the problem? You had large population problems even back then. If we extended the life span of even a tiny fraction of the population it would be disastrous! There are sixteen billion people on Earth today! We can barely keep ahead in food and other production. That's the only reason we allow the Circus. It reduces tensions; it's not to reduce the population, as the blasphemous Catholics say, not at all. An insignificant number perish in the Games. No, it is to give our millions a release for their emotions. Even the Ministers of the Will of God see that. The Believers in the Fundamental Bible have just opened their own arena, in United Kansas, and they were the last holdouts. But now even they have recognized the value."
Colonel Calkins inhaled deeply and regained his composure. To another man the subject would have been almost nothing; but Blake thought that for the colonel this must be a strong emotional issue.
"But we didn't know that! We did it years, a hundred years, before any law was passed against it! It was legal in our time!"
"We will take that under consideration. But there is still the matter of the gold, unauthorized flight in an unlicensed aircraft, indecorous clothing–"
"But how could we license a ship when we were ... Uh ... indecorous clothing?"
"One of your group, Sister Doreen O'Shea, was clothed in a fashion long prohibited by both custom and law. A serious offense."
"A low neckline is illegal?" Blake was incredulous. "But how were we to know of your nudity taboos?"
"The Elders will take that into consideration. Meanwhile, you may rejoin the others."
Abruptly the colonel left, and in a few minutes a soldier escorted Blake to a room where everyone but Granville was gathered.
Quickly they each told the story of their interrogations, and with minor discrepancies they matched.
"We had no time to think up a cover story," Rio said, "and a good thing, too. Those polygraph chairs were pretty efficient." She didn't explain how she knew, but Blake imagined she had been caught in a lie.
"Let us pool what we know," Voss said. "They want the location of the tomb. They have some expert coming in tonight to question me."
Blake and Voss exchanged looks, and Voss shrugged. "They are religious fanatics," Voss continued. "Much more so than the Mormons of our time."
"I think they are under great pressure," Rio said. "The air force, the guns, the suspicion ... There seem to be a number of religious factions or groups that control areas, or influence politics, or something. It's pretty vague."
"There's something called the Swords of St. Michael," Vogel said in his rough voice. "I think they're cops. Calkins asked me if I was registered with them. He called them Defenders of the Faith, too, but I think they're something like the Federal Bureau of Intelligence back in our time."
"I’m sorry about my clothes," Doreen said apologetically. "My God, I thought these were pretty conservative, too!"
Rio patted her arm. "Don't worry. I almost wore something just as revealing. They don't seem to like sensuality very much, do they?"
Doreen shook her head, her fingers holding closed the front of her dress. Voss began to pace the floor, and Vogel looked nervous.
"Where's Franklin?" the bodyguard asked Voss.
"I don't know. They seemed distressed that he was an atheist."
"Thank God, I'm not an atheist," Doreen said, and they all looked at her. Her smile melted away and she hung her head.
"They mentioned several religions or sects, or what I thought were religions," Rio said. "Quite a few, in fact. Guardians of the Throne of God. Archangels of the God Triumphant. The Congregation of the Most Faithful Minions of the Lord, or something like that."
"Calkins mentioned some to me, too," Blake said. "Church of the Converted Avatars, Host of the Angels of the Earth ... something called the Believers in the Fundamental Bible, too. They just built a Circus."
Vogel spoke again. "He mentioned Minions of Gabriel to me. But it didn't sound like a church, the way he said it. An army maybe, or some kind of force."
"He asked me about some of those, too," Doreen said, her head still down. "Skypilots, Incorporated. Shapers of the Coming Truth of the Crucified Christ."
"All Christian churches," Voss said. "That's significant."
"Calkins didn't think much of the Catholics," Blake said.
"Splinter groups, dissidents, secessionists. Like the Roman Church from the Hebrew, like the Protestants, like the schismatic orders that split off from the Catholics. All Christians but all fighting."
"Holy wars," Blake said. Oh, Jesus!
"Those were always the worst," Voss confirmed. "How many burning saints can dance on the point of a pin? Brother against brother, heresy and the Inquisition."
The words cast a gloom over the group and they sat or stood mutely for some time.
Then Rio said, "We've got to get away!"
"Where?" Doreen asked, looking up. "It sounds as if it is the same all over."
"I must get to Switzerland, or at least New York. There I can activate my contacts," Voss asserted.
"What about Los Angeles or San Francisco?" Vogel said. "We might make that."
"How?" Blake said, gesturing around at the prison walls.
"This is not the first jail I've been in."
I bet! thought Blake.
Vogel looked up at Jean-Michel. "How much of the gold, can I use to bribe?"
> "All of it, if you need to. Just get me out of here." Blake noted the "me" bleakly. Here it comes, he told himself.
Vogel rose and took Voss to a corner, where they conferred for several minutes. A little later the door opened and a prisoner in gray wheeled in a cart with food. He would not talk, and left quickly.
The food was delicious, but a few odd tastes stumped their minds. Almost the moment they were finished, the door opened again and the same prisoner took out the cart. Vogel attempted to engage the guard in conversation but it didn't work.
An hour later, Granville Franklin came in. He seemed unhurt and almost cheerful. They pelted him with questions, but he held up his hands. "Easy, easy, now! The world is run by a number of large militant religious organizations, you found that out? All right. It looks as if the pendulum has swung the opposite way from our time." He looked at Doreen. "Did they discipline you? No? They will. Your public indecency is almost as bad as smuggling. Maybe worse, to some."
Doreen hung her head again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"It is a sexually oppressive world. But get this!" He gestured around him. "This is supposed to be an island of enlightenment in a dark world. Yes! The Mormons were always independent and they still are. But ... they, too, are influenced by social pressures."
"I've got to get to New York or Ztirich," Voss said determinedly.
Granville looked doubtful. "Yes, well, perhaps. Travel is pretty much controlled, too, and you have to have passports to go from state to state here in America."
"How did you learn all this?" Rio asked.
Granville smiled. "If you keep yourself calm, you can learn much from the questions an interrogator asks. And I asked a few, too, for background in which to frame my answers."
"What about Washington, or some sort of central government?" Rio asked.
"I'm not certain there is any," Granville answered. "The government seems to be a group of corporations, sometimes church-owned and sometimes church-controlled, but certainly church-influenced. The governmental services they need seem to be established mostly on a franchise basis – a direction the police departments back in our time were heading in. Instead of the election of a new political party, bringing reorganization and political plums, there are regular contracts – like those with garbage collectors or building contractors. Contracts up for renewal are put out for bids from qualified security-service companies."
Granville chewed at the inside of his mouth. "But with these strong regional governments, the central government seems to be rather weak. I learn more if I can talk to someone who really understands the situation. Or get to a Total Information System terminal."
Rio whispered to Blake, "See why Jean-Michel brought him?"
Blake nodded, whispering back, "How can we get away?"
Granville heard him and said, "With difficulty, I think. We are on Level E of a thirty-eight-floor dome with nine levels below ground. We are five levels below the surface. I don't think we'll bust out."
"Buy out?" Voss asked quickly.
"Probably the best way to try. But they have the gold."
"They don't have all of it," Vogel said.
"Are you going to try to take us all out with you?" Blake asked Voss.
There was the smallest of hesitations, then Voss said, "Of course. Even you, Mr. Mason, the stowaway in time."
"Very poetic, Jean-Michel," Blake said, not fooled for an instant.
"The Grand Inquisitor, or whatever he is, is coming tonight," Voss said. "We'll have to work fast. I don't know what sort of methods or drugs they have now."
Granville nodded. "Have you tried talking to the guards?"
Vogel nodded. "Nothing."
"Calkins?" asked Granville.
"You think you can bribe him?" Rio asked.
"It is all in knowing the price a man will accept," Voss said.
"Cynically but sadly true," Granville said, giving Voss a cryptic look. "How are we going to go about it?"
"The first one who gets him alone will offer him the location of the tomb," Voss said. "Providing we all go along."
"Why should we go along?" Granville looked worried. "Only one is needed. He might get suspicious."
"Tell him it takes four of us to open the vault, but not which four," said Rio quickly.
"Have you people even thought about this place being bugged?" Vogel asked.
Granville shrugged. "We have nothing to lose." He gave each of them a significant look. "It takes four of us, each with a part of the combination to open the vault where the gold is stored, do you understand me?" Everyone nodded. "The hypnotic implants are triggered only by symbols on the site. Not even we know which four. Got that?"
"Pretty good," Vogel said, then fell silent as Granville shot him a black look.
"There are ... ur ... how many millions in gold there, Jean-Michel?"
"Ten. No, twenty-two. By the values of a hundred years ago."
"It matters little," Granville said. "Even with the fusion torches refining our refuse and cleaning sea water, the world's gold supply is not increased very much. That stack of bars would be worth a fortune – or several fortunes – in any era of Earth's history.”
"Bait," said Voss.
"How many soldiers can they take with us?" Vogel said.
"Enough, perhaps," Blake said.
It was Voss himself who got Calkins alone a half-hour later. He came back into the room to the others, barely suppressing his delight. For the benefit of any possible hidden microphones Voss said, "Well, I had to tell him. He could see that if Sister Meaker got the information from me, it wouldn't help him. And after Sister Meaker worked me over, I might not be in the proper serene mental attitude to open the vault. He figured, correctly, that I had to be one of the four. We leave in an hour or so," Voss said, looking pleased.
"North to the tomb," Vogel said.
"Yes," Voss answered with a look of anticipation. "I also discovered that west of here – from the Shoshone Mountains to the Sierras – is the province of the White Kingdom of Light. All across northern Nevada. The lower part – down to Vegas, Death Valley, and east over the Grand Canyon and almost down to Phoenix – is controlled by the Eye of the Mystery of Eternal Life."
"What about California, over to San Francisco?" Blake asked.
"I'm not certain. It's either the Order of the Celestial Hierarchy, or something called Guardians of the Throne of God."
"They sure have some names," Doreen said. "My mother used to go to the Church of the Redeemed Son of God, and I thought that was some name."
"Notice that the names are often rather specific," Granville interjected, "as though they outlined, or specified a certain aspect, and not a broad, general faith. Maybe we can use that theory in some way."
"I don't see how," Doreen said. "It sounds as if the whole damn world has gotten religion." She looked suddenly tired. "It just isn't what I expected. I – I expected ... more."
"More?" asked Rio.
"More of what we had. More fun, more excitement, more ... more. Bigger pleasure domes, maybe quicker and easier ways to get to Mars, or something like that. Just, uh, more."
"Yes, I’m certain we all expected something different from this," Granville said, "but this is what we've got"
"For four hundred years," Vogel added.
"My God!" Doreen exclaimed. "I'd forgotten." She looked at Voss. "I didn't really think it would happen – or if it did happen, we wouldn't really live hundreds of years."
"Maybe we won't," Vogel said gloomily. "Or else they'll give us life."
"Oh, dear," Doreen sighed. To Rio she said, "I thought it was kind of like, you know, going along to Triton for a week, or maybe a weekend sub party out of Brisbane. I didn't..." Her voice trailed off and the voluptuous young beauty looked lost.
"What's Calkins's plan?" Vogel asked.
"I don't know," Voss answered. "We don't know bow they'll transport us. We may be in separate ships, or in holding cells in some kind of airborne version of what
they brought us in with. But we have to watch for an opportunity."
Vogel made a cupping gesture with his hand around his ear, and pointed at the walls. The financier nodded, paused, then said quietly, "Don't jump at the first chance. Consider all possibilities. Try to alert the others." In a slightly louder voice he continued, "We don't know what the triggering mechanisms are for the hypnotic suggestion. We don't want to mess up our opportunity to get all that gold out of the vault."
To Blake the words were nonsense, but he saw how they fitted roughly into the idea Voss and Granville Franklin had planted in Calkins's mind.
Blake asked Granville, "Did you deduce anything else?"
"No, not much. I think they are down on sex because sex is the cause of pregnancy and pregnancies are the cause of overpopulation. I wouldn't be surprised if they licensed pregnancies. If not here, then somewhere, or maybe everywhere."
"Why do you think the Catholics and Jews are on the shit list around here?" Vogel asked.
"I don't know. I don't have enough information yet. Perhaps because they are older religions. There are older ones, of course – like the worship of Ishtar, the Olympian gods, or various Egyptian gods and goddesses or those found in Slavic and Norse myths – but some of those religions died out or were insignificant even back in our time. Perhaps even 'immortal' gods lose their power or potency when people stop believing in them."
Granville rubbed a hand across his face, massaging it hard. He took a deep breath and continued, "But the Hebrew religion is old, very old and well entrenched. Of course, there have been purges. Orthodox Christianity is also well established, especially in the Roman Catholic Church. Perhaps all these new religions didn't want to be compared, or reminded, or something. I just don't know yet."
They waited, impatiently and with growing nervousness. So much could happen to thwart them.
Finally, Voss said, "We will try to fly west to San Francisco. Los Angeles will be our second target, if we are diverted or blocked. I think I can contact my factors there. There should be some office of something here. Or a secure line to New York or Zurich."
A little while later, Blake spoke to the room at large: "A hundred years. One-oh-seven plus. We thought it was going to be ninety." He looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. "You know, I thought the future was somehow going to be different. You know, different different – airy crystal cities and creatures of pure energy, fairyland parks with strange and wonderful devices to amuse us."
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