"Just you take good care of my son," Siltz grumbled. "He is not used to marriage. He will not know what to do."
"He has a fair idea how to start," she said, flushing passingly.
Brother Paul emerged from the house. He was touched by the reconciliation, but it reminded him strongly of his own problems. He, too, wanted a daughter—but the daughter he had in mind belonged to another man, and he had no wife. In any event he would soon be mattermitting back to Earth—and the others could not go. Above all, he did not have the answer he had come to find. Not any answer he was prepared to present to the colonists! How could he stand before the community tomorrow and disappoint them?
It was dark. Light spilled from the cabin windows, helping him make his way, but beyond the village he had to depend on starlight. He wondered whether any of the stars of the entities he had learned about were visible now: Etamin, Mintaka, Spika, Polaris, or the galaxy Andromeda. And where would the galaxy called Pin-wheel be? He had never heard of that one! Here in the night, those alien civilized Spheres seemed both very close and painfully distant in time and space. He wished—but that was futile. He had used up his three wishes, and now he was in Hell where he belonged.
He proceeded toward Northole, aware that he was taking a foolish risk by departing the village stockade alone and unarmed, but he did not care. He had seen and lost the universe; what did he have to lose now? What beast of prey could be worse than what he had already faced in Hell?
Ahead he spied the flashes of the nova-bugs. There was the place to walk! But one foot snagged on something. He dragged it violently forward, recovering his balance. There was a series of faint pops. Tarot bubbles—he had walked through a cluster of them nestled in a hollow of the ground. A nova bug flashed brightly right before him, illuminating the shriveling Bubble remains.
Triggered by that, something illuminated in Brother Paul's mind. "Animation!" he exclaimed aloud. "The source of Animation! Now at last I understand!"
He concentrated. Light flared—no nova-bug this time, but illumination Brother Paul had willed. Yet he was not yet in the Animation area. "I control it," he said. "I have solved the problem of Animation!" Then, more slowly, "But I have not solved the problem of God."
He stood for some time in thought, working out the presentation he would make to the colonists. "Animation," he said. "The Ancients. Aura. It all ties together as I almost discovered two thousand five hundred years hence in Herald the Healer's vision." Then he set about gathering Tarot Bubbles with which to decorate tomorrow's stage.
Brother Paul stood at the apex of the wood pile. "I came here to identify the God of Tarot," he said. "The question was whether God is behind the Animation effect, and if so, what God he is. I now have an answer—but it is not one that pleases me or will please you. I could tell you that Animation tells me that all Gods are valid—" But as he had guessed, they were shaking their heads. They could not accept that answer. They wanted a single, dominant God, not a compromise philosophy.
He paused, trying to phrase his decision in a manner that would not be as painful for this group as he feared it would be. Yet what point was there in balking, after he had passed through Hell? But he found that he could not state his conclusion baldly; he had to lead up to it. "Much of the data on which I base my opinion is suspect because it derives from Animation which is the thing being studied. Animation is a tangible composite of the imaginations of the participants. A shared dream, if you will. It seems that the dream was principally mine, and I am an imperfect vessel—how imperfect I never properly appreciated until I had this experience! So you may reject my conclusion if you will."
All were watching him in silence. Deacon Brown of the Church of Lemuria, eyes downcast, yet watching: an eerie effect! Minister Malcolm of the Nation of Islam. Mrs. Ellend of the Church of Christ: Scientist, perhaps the oldest member of this audience. Pastor Runford, the Jehovah's Witness. Jeanette, sitting closely beside the Reverend Siltz: Scientology and Communist united at last. But not the Swami, who remained unconscious.
"Three million years ago there existed a species of creature we know only as 'The Ancients.' They were not human; rather they were part of an alien culture embracing the several galaxies of this Cluster: Milky Way, Andromeda, Pinwheel, and assorted lesser structures. They were highly sophisticated creatures whose technology has never been matched elsewhere. One of their many avenues of exploration related to the expression of Art as controlled by sapient consciousness. They were much concerned with the mechanisms of imagination and sought ways to make Art more direct. Why go through the tedium of painting a picture or molding a sculpture if the mind can create the images direct without the intercession of material things? Not only would such dream art be more convenient, occurring virtually instantaneously, but it would be far more versatile than any prior medium. Thus the Ancients created Animation."
Brother Paul paused. He was oversimplifying, for he knew that much of the joy in art lay in the doing of it. But he had a problem of timing. The sun was beating down warmly now. Most of the pretty Tarot Bubbles had popped. It was time.
"This," Brother Paul said, lifting and spreading his arms, "is Animation."
Abruptly the world turned purple. The wood, the ground, the people—all were shades of purple. They looked about and stared at each other, amazed.
Then they turned green. And black. Stygian darkness closed about them—until nova bugs flashed, restoring intermittent light.
The effects faded. All was as before. "The nova bugs make their light by Animation," Brother Paul said. "That is why their physical light-making apparatus has baffled science. The mechanism is not physical at all. It is imaginative—literally. I dare say many other unusual features of this planet's life will become explicable by the application of this insight."
Reverend Siltz, as baffled as the rest, faced Brother Paul. "How—?"
"I am coming to that, Reverend Communist," Brother Paul said. "Let's relax with something pretty while I cover the dreary details." The village houses vanished, replaced by lovely flowering trees. A sparkling stream coursed in a meandering path between people, arriving at a central conic fountain. Brother Paul stood at the apex of the fountain. "As you see, Animation can make images appear where there is nothing or conceal what is actually present. It can also produce sounds to a lesser extent; but most meaningful speech has to be spoken by a living person. It affects touch, but usually only to the extent of modifying existing surfaces. In short, there is normally a physical basis for a structure of Animation—but the basis and the appearance need not correspond very closely. Animation can produce the sensations of water—" and here the fountain spread out to become a rising lake surrounding the colonists, wetting them "—but it can not actually drown you unless you fall into real water. You might suffocate because you believe you are underwater, but that would not be the direct result of Animation." The water was above waist level, swirling ever higher as the colonists stood, causing considerable alarm. "But I do not mean to torture you, only to show you how it is possible to die in Animation without actually being killed by it." The water dropped, forming back into the fountain.
"Note that this is not mass hypnosis," Brother Paul continued. "I have shown you rather than told you of these effects. All living creatures have an intangible force about them we call Aura. An aspect of it has been photographed by the Kirlian process—but this appears to be only a refraction caused by water vapor associated with our type of life. The original aura can be detected only by extremely sophisticated equipment which our human species will not develop for several centuries yet. Some would call it the Soul—the ultimate essence of individuality, independent of body. In fact, some alien cultures can transfer that soul to other bodies, in effect giving their people the chance to travel on other worlds in other hosts.
"As will be discovered, the auras of individual entities vary widely in type and intensity; most are near 'Sapient Norm' which is coded by the numeral 1; some are more intense, coded by hi
gher numbers. Every aura is unique and wonderful—but the extremely intense auras are spectacular in special ways." He paused, and the fountain turned bright yellow and developed a ring of green eves at the base.
"Still no verbal suggestion," Brother Paul said with a smile. "Yet obviously my will is being communicated to you! Have no concern for your sanity; each of you perceives the same impossibility. I possess one of the most intense auras found among our species. I do not claim this makes me a superior man; far from it! I am an imperfect vessel with extremely human failings. Chance bestowed this gift on me. Until I came to this planet I was not even aware of it, and until last night I did not appreciate it. But it turns out that aura controls the Animations—and so this is my power." The yellow water solidified into a yellow monster that quivered and roared, supporting Brother Paul on its tongue.
"When we went into Animation, my aura extended out, interacting with the weaker auras of the others, informing them of my will. And so they saw what I saw and spoke as I would have them speak, in a general way. It resembles telepathy, but it is not direct mind-to-mind rapport. Since Animation does not affect the mind directly, only the perceptions, they actually interpreted their parts rather freely—but the play was always mine."
"But what makes it happen?" Reverend Siltz cried, staring at the monster. "Why does Animation only happen here on Planet Tarot? Surely other people on Earth have auras."
The monster dissolved into a pile of yellow rubble with a ring of green jewels. "The Ancients used their sophisticated science to create a special life form whose purpose was to facilitate the communication of auras," Brother Paul said. "This unique creature generates a—I suppose you'd call it a kind of gas that somehow enhances the overlapping of auras so that much improved contact occurs. A catalyst. Ordinarily auras are discrete, maintaining their separateness even when these auras overlap. Some creatures like to associate in close physical proximity so that their auras form something like a common pool, while others prefer to stay apart. This substance nullifies that separateness of aura to a certain extent, making the auras permeable, merging them. In a rather fundamental respect, groups of people in the vicinity of this gas join together, sharing themselves. Animation may be the ultimate tool for unity."
"But some Animations are nightmares!" Pastor Runford cried.
"Yes, indeed!" Brother Paul agreed. "Because the average person is not ready for unity. He has enough trouble with his own nightmares, which Animation makes starkly tangible, without sharing those of others. Those of us who participated in this experiment suffered horrors that only we could imagine. Others before us have actually died. It is dangerous to loose the untamed horrors of the mind, especially when they have been so long suppressed. The Swami Kundalini tried to warn me of this." He paused, reflecting. "Fortunately we were a fairly balanced group with our horrors canceling each other out as much as they augmented each other. We experienced a kind of composite that became largely independent of the will of any one of us, including myself. The application of Tarot images helped, for the Tarot is a refined body of imagery and philosophy with roots deep in human experience and symbolism. Without that to lean on, to structure our creations, we could have been in very bad trouble. In the future, the Temple of Tarot will integrate Tarot with Animation with potent but precisely controlled effect, spreading its system safely across the Galactic Cluster." He smiled. "Everywhere but in Sphere Sol. The human government will ban such use of Animation, and thereby fall behind other Spheres in this respect, ironically."
Jeanette's brow had furrowed during this speech. Now she jogged Siltz's arm and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. How rapidly she had assumed proprietary rights, advertising them to the entire community! She could have spoken for herself, but now preferred to have the Reverend speak for her. She showed her power not so much by marrying young Ivan—who it seemed was not even attending this meeting—but by her proximity to Ivan's father, the head of the family. She had become one of the family, and in her public deferral she claimed her victory.
Siltz listened gravely, as a man listens to his daughter, then spoke aloud. "You have not answered, Brother Paul. Where are these Animation creatures? Can you show us one?"
Ah, yes; he had drifted from the subject, as was his wont. "Everywhere. They are the Tarot Bubbles."
"The Bubbles!" several others exclaimed.
"Correct. These innocuous fragments of froth that generate in the night and pop by day. They are a form of life—whether plant or animal or fungus or germ or some alien type I can't say. But I suspect the last, as things seem to fall naturally into divisions of five here, like the Tarot suits. They multiply and grow and feed and seek to survive—"
"But they just sit there or float about!"
"They sit there in the shade," Brother Paul explained. "When they pop, they release their hallucinogenic agent and some spores so that new ones can grow when favorable conditions return."
"But why bother with the Animation effect, then? They don't need it!"
"They did not evolve naturally. They were created or modified by the science of a culture whose motives and abilities were incredibly sophisticated. But Animation may be a survival mechanism after all. It may protect the Bubbles from molestation by evoking distractions culled from the minds of the marauders. And the desire that most sapient species seem to have for hallucinogenic experience may cause them to spread the Bubbles all across the Cluster, much as they spread fruit-producing plants or sweets-producing insects or useful animals. I also suspect controlled Animation can serve as a natural painkiller and as an excellent teaching tool. Thus specialists of various types will find uses for it. To control Animation they need the Bubbles. I believe the survival of the species is assured." Brother Paul frowned. "However, I am less sanguine about the prospects for our own human species, whose madness may be aggravated. Many quite beneficial drugs have been sorely abused in the past such as morphine and mnem. What will happen to Earth when Animation arrives there? Obviously the repercussions will be sufficient to cause Animation to be banned."
The yellow monster faded out. Brother Paul was back on the pile of wood in the center of the village. "The gas seems to have dissipated," he said. "When the threshold of Animation passes, the effect disappears rapidly like a candle going out. I brought a number of ripe Bubbles here last night, but they were not enough to maintain the effect for long. In the depression of Northole, where conditions are better for them, Animation is much more persistent, except when storms move the gas elsewhere. But I trust I have made my point."
"You have made your point," Reverend Siltz said. "But what is your answer? Who is the God of Tarot?"
"That is the difficult answer since you declined to accept the one I proffered," Brother Paul said slowly. This was the part he hated! "All the manifestations of Animation turn out to have a physical explanation. The variables of the Bubbles and individual auras made that explanation difficult to come by, but I believe independent investigation will corroborate my conjectures. Thus we do not need to assume the direct participation of a deity."
There was a moment of silence. "There is no God?" Siltz asked slowly. He seemed to have become the spokesman for the community. Brother Paul was not sure from the way the man spoke whether this, to him, represented defeat or victory. Many humanists believed in the spirit of Man, not God; what was the stand of the Church of Communism?
"I—can not say that," Brother Paul said. "I can only say that God did not make Himself manifest to me through Animation. Therefore, I can not identify the God of Tarot—because I have no concrete evidence there is a God of Tarot."
"Yet there is a God," Siltz persisted. "And that God is found within the human heart. And Animation makes manifest what is in the human heart. You were questing for that truth. Surely you found something."
"No," Brother Paul said heavily. "I am no longer sure there is a God. I looked for Him as hard as I could, yet was invariably turned aside, and found only the debunking of my most cherished belie
fs. The closest I came to God's presence was, through the irony of precession, when I was questing in quite another direction."
There was no cry of outrage. The assembled villagers of diverse faiths looked at him with regret and compassion. "Surely you retain your faith in your prophet, Jesus Christ," Reverend Siltz said. "We asked you to choose among our Gods, not to renounce your own."
"I am not sure I do retain that faith," Brother Paul said. "What Jesus did can be accounted for by the presence of aura. He could have been an ordinary man, even a—a mutilated one, with an extremely intense aura. Aura can sponsor visions; aura can heal. In the future there will be entities who make a business of healing through aura, attributing no religious significance to it." Herald the Healer, where are you now? "God—I find it difficult to discover an objective rationale for the existence of a Supreme Being in the face of what I now know of Animation and aura."
"But this is not negation!" Siltz insisted. "These things may prove only that God operates through such tools as Ancients and aura. There are unknowns we can not explain; there are rights and wrongs. There must be Divine inspiration, a Guiding Force—and you must have had some hint as to the identity of that Force."
"Perhaps," Brother Paul agreed reluctantly. He knew what Siltz was trying to do: rescue Planet Tarot from the depression and chaos that a negative decision could mean. Better a foreign God than anarchy. This colony needed to unite, at least politically, about a single deity—any deity. "Yet I am not certain, now, what is right and what is wrong or whether there is in fact any distinction between them. One concept is meaningless without the other, much as the black markings we call writing are meaningless without the white background of the paper. Black and white must work together to form meaning; it is foolish to call either color God. Right and wrong exist only as companions, as extremes of perspective; God may be in both or in neither, but God can not be taken as one or the other. Yet I would not presume on the basis of such subjective evidence—"