«That pays three for one,» Boone said and fished the pay-off out of the receptacle, «and here's your text.» He tore off a paper tab and handed it to Jill. «Keep it, little lady, and ponder it.»
Jill sneaked a glance before putting it into her purse:«But the Sinner's belly is filled with filth — N.R. XXII 17»
«You'll note,» Boone went on, «that the pay-off is tokens, not cash — and the bursar's cage is back past the bar … plenty of opportunity there to make love offerings for charity and other good works. So the sinner probably feeds them back in … with a blessing each time and another text. The cumulative effect is tremendous! Why, some of our most faithful sheep got their start right in this room.»
«I don't doubt it,» agreed Jubal.
«Especially if they hit a jackpot. You understand, every combination is a blessing. But the jackpot, that's the three Holy Eyes. I tell you, when they see those eyes lined up and starin' at 'em all that manna from Heaven coming down, it really makes 'em think. Sometimes they faint. Here, Mr. Smith — » Boone offered Mike one of the tokens. «Give it a whirl.»
Mike hesitated. Jubal took the token himself — damn it, he didn't want the boy hooked by a one-armed bandit! «I'll try it, Senator.» He fed the machine.
Mike had extended his time sense a little and was feeling around inside the machine, trying to discover what it did. He was too timid to play it himself.
But when Jubal did so, Mike watched the cylinders spin, noted the eye pictured on each, and wondered what this «jackpot» was. The word had three meanings, so far as he knew; none of them seemed to apply. Without intending to cause excitement, he slowed and stopped each wheel so that the eyes looked out through the window.
A bell tolled, a choir sang hosannas, the machine lighted up and started spewing slugs. Boone looked delighted. «Well, bless you! Doc, this is your day! Here — put one back to take the jackpot off.» He picked up one of the flood and fed it back in.
Mike was wondering why this was happening, so he lined up the eyes again. Events repeated, save that the flood was a trickle. Boone stared. «Well, I'll be — blessed! It's not supposed to hit twice in a row. But I'll see that you're paid on both.» Quickly he put a slug back in.
Mike still wanted to see why this was a «jackpot.» The eyes lined up again.
Boone stared. Jill squeezed Mike's hand and whispered, «Mike … stop it!»
«But, Jill, I was seeing — »
«Don't talk. Just stop. Oh, wait till I get you home!»
Boone said slowly, «I'd hesitate to call this a miracle. Probably needs a repairman.» He shouted, «Cherub here!» and added, «We'd better take the last one off, anyhow,» and fed in another slug.
Without Mike's intercession, the wheels slowed down and announced: «FOSTER — LOVES — YOU.» A Cherub came up and said, «Happy day. You need help?»
«Three jackpots,» Boone told him.
«“Three”?»
«Didn't you hear the music? Are you deef? We'll be at the bar; fetch the money there. And have somebody check this machine.»
«Yes, Bishop.»
Boone hurried them to the bar. «Got to get you out of here,» he said jovially, «before you bankrupt the Church. Doc, are you always that lucky?»
«Always,» Harshaw said solemnly. He told himself that he did not know that the boy had anything to do with it … but he wished that this ordeal were over.
Boone took them to a counter marked «Reserved» and said, «This'll do — or would the little lady like to sit?»
«This is fine.» ( — you call me «little lady» once more and I'll turn Mike loose on you!)
A bartender hurried up. «Happy day. Your usual, Bishop?»
«Double. What'll it be, Doc? And Mr. Smith? Don't be bashful; you're the Supreme Bishop's guests.»
«Brandy, thank you. Water on the side.»
«Brandy, thank you,» Mike repeated and added. «No water for me, please.» Water was not the essence; nevertheless he did not wish to drink water here.
«That's the spirit!» Boone said heartily. «That's the spirit with spirits! No water. Get it? It's a joke.» He dug Jubal in the ribs. «What'll it be for the little lady? Cola? Milk for your rosy cheeks? Or a real Happy Day drink with the big folks?»
«Senator,» Jill said carefully, «Would your hospitality extend to a martini?»
«Would it! Best martinis in the world — we don't use vermouth. We bless 'em instead. Double martini for the little lady. Bless you, son, and make it fast. We've time for a quick one, then pay our respects to Archangel Foster and on into the Sanctuary to hear the Supreme Bishop.»
The drinks arrived and the jackpots' pay-off. They drank with Boone's blessing, then he wrangled over the three hundred dollars, insisting that all prizes belonged to Jubal. Jubal settled it by depositing it all in a love-offering bowl.
Boone nodded approvingly. «That's a mark of grace, Doc. We'll save you yet. Another round, folks?»
Jill hoped that someone would say yes — The gin was watered but it was starting a flame of tolerance in her middle. Nobody spoke up, so Boone led them away, up a flight, past a sign reading: POSITIVELY NO SEEKERS NOR SIN NERS — THIS MEANS YOU!
Beyond was a gate. Boone said to it: «Bishop Boone and three pilgrims, guests of the Supreme Bishop.»
The gate opened. He led them around a curved passage into a room. It was large, luxurious in a style that reminded Jill of undertakers' parlors but was filled with cheerful music. The theme was Jingle Bells with a Congo beat added; Jill found that it made her want to dance.
The far wall was glass and appeared to be not even that. Boone said briskly, «Here we are, folks — in the Presence. You don't have to kneel — but do so if it makes you feel better. Most pilgrims do. And there he is … just as he was when he was called up to Heaven.»
Boone gestured with his cigar. «Don't he look natural? Preserved by a miracle, flesh incorruptible. That's the very chair he used when he wrote his Messages … and that's the pose he was in when he went to Heaven. He's never been moved — we built the Tabernacle right around him … removing the old church, naturally, and preserving its sacred stones.»
Facing them about twenty feet away, seated in a chair remarkably like a throne, was an old man. He looked as if he were alive … and he reminded Jill of an old goat on the farm where she had spent childhood summers — out-thrust lower lip, the whiskers, the fierce, brooding eyes. Jill felt her skin prickle; Archangel Foster made her uneasy.
Mike said in Martian,«My brother, this is an Old One?»
«I don't know, Mike. They say he is.»
He answered,«I do not grok an Old one.»
«I don't know, I tell you.»
«I grok wrongness.»
«Mike! Remember!»
«Yes, Jill.»
Boone said, «What's he saying, little lady? What was your question, Mr. Smith?»
Jill said quickly, «It wasn't anything. Senator, can I get out of here? I feel faint.» She glanced at the corpse. Billowing clouds were above it; one shaft of light cut through and sought out the face. As lighting changed the face seemed to change, the eyes seemed bright and alive.
Boone said soothingly, «It has that effect, first time. You ought to try the seekers' gallery below us — looking up and with different music. Heavy music, with subsonics, I believe it is — reminds 'em of their sins. Now this room is a Happy Thoughts meditation chamber for high officials of the Church — I come here and sit and smoke a cigar if I'm feeling a bit low.»
«Please, Senator!»
«Oh, certainly. Wait outside, m'dear. Mr. Smith, you stay as long as you like.»
Jubal said, «Senator, hadn't we best get on into the services?»
They left. Jill was shaking — she had been scared silly that Mike might do something to that grisly exhibit — get them all lynched.