"You need to know this. I see so much that is so far beyond your understanding. . . ." He stepped back so the light could hit him fully.

And then I saw.

There was fine pink fur all over his chest. He glistened with purple and orange patterns. I stared at him, horrified.

The fur was thickest in a line up his belly, all the way up from his groin to his breastbone; it thickened and stretched across his chest like a great red tree. It was almost beautiful. Jason shucked out of his pants and I could see how the fur was spreading down the inside of his thighs. He turned around and I could see that it was growing across his back. I saw pink and white strands peppering his hair as well.

"Touch me," he commanded.

Despite myself, I reached my hand out. The fur tingled like worm fur.

It was worm fur.

He turned around to face me again. "Jim-I can see you with my eyes closed. I can smell you and taste you. You smell of salt and fear and blood. You taste of loneliness. I can hear what you're thinking. You radiate in colors that you don't even know you have."

He stopped and looked at me oddly for a moment, peering curiously at a spot behind my eyes. And then he started laughing. "You really don't know, do you? You really are a victim."

And then he stopped himself and said, "You're right, Jim. I'm not human any more. I've transcended humanity. I've grown beyond it. I would have shared this gift with you, Jim. I wanted to, but you wouldn't let me, would you? You never understood how we all loved you. No. Because you won't let yourself be loved, by anyone. You're doomed to go through life putting turds in your own punch bowl and wondering why everything tastes so shitty. You poor damned fool, I feel so sorry for you, for what you've lost. You're a Judas, Jim. You've betrayed the living gods."

There was a lot I could have said to that, but I couldn't find the words. What I said instead was almost simplistic by comparison with Jason's vision. I just shook my head and said, "You made a terrible mistake when you attacked Family."

Jason was rebuttoning his shirt, tucking it back into his pants. He looked up at me with a hard expression. "I keep my word, Jim. I told you once, that if you ever broke your word to me, you would regret it bitterly. And that is exactly what has happened. No matter what you do in the future, you will always know that you broke your word. And you will always know that you had reason to regret it. There are people dead today who would not be dead had you kept your word."

"You can't put that blame on me."

"Jim, you know what your responsibility in the matter is. You know where you failed. There's nothing I have to say or do at all. You'll do it all yourself, far worse than I ever can."

"I'm not going to play word games with you any more, Jason. I came down here. I gave you a chance. My conscience is clean."

"That's bullshit and we both know it."

"You're no god," I said to him. "You know what your failure is? You wanted revenge on me. You may wrap it up in beautiful fancy language, but underneath it all, somewhere in there, it's still nothing more than revenge, isn't it?"

"I kept my word, James. As I said I would." He returned to his bunk and sat down. He was dismissing me.

I didn't move. "You know, you were right about something you said to me once. I don't want to kill. But I kill. I don't want to kill you. But I will. If I have to."

"I've told you my choice. I think I'll die now."

"Unfinished? Incomplete?"

He laughed. "I'm not incomplete, Jim. I'm fulfilled. I've come farther than any human being before me; but this isn't the end of the process. Oh, no. There's still so much more to come. This is only where I stop, Jim, not the work.

"Nature is abundant. She'll keep spawning prophets until one of us accomplishes the transformation of the species. It was never important that I be the one to complete the work, only that the work gets completed. And what I've done isn't wasted either. I've helped pave the way, helped make it easier for the next prophet.

"In that regard, I envy you, Jim; because it's very possible that you will live long enough to see the work completed. I promise you that it will be. Nothing you or anyone can do can stop it. The work will be finished. If not by me, then by someone else. Perhaps . . . " He smiled, and the effect was terrifying. "Perhaps, Jim, you might even be the one to someday finish what we started here."

"I'll burn in hell first," I said.

"Yes, that's the other possibility." I closed the door behind me.

He would not let me be complete. The bastard. His skill was at keeping people off balance. He'd done it to me again.

And tomorrow, I would have to do it to him.

I walked in and stopped and looked at them.

There were only seven. They were in a row along the side of the room.

Marcie, Jessie, Frankenstein, three whose names I didn't know, and Delandro.

They were on their knees, hands on top of their heads. Prisoner of war position.

There was one guard in back of each one of them, with a rifle pointed directly at their backs. None of the guards was over sixteen years old.

They were impassive. Guards and prisoners both. We almost looked civilized.

I knew what was going to happen here. And they knew it too. They were going to say what they would say. We would say what we would say. But the result would be the same.

I turned away from them. I nodded to the two young men at the back of the room. They opened the doors and the rest of the people of Family filed silently in. They took their seats quickly and with a minimum of noise.

I was startled by how few of us were left. Less than fifteen adults.

When they were settled, I nodded to the guard at the side door. He opened it and Betty-John and Birdie came quietly in. They stepped up to the podium and sat down at the table there.

Betty-John arranged some papers in front of her, poured herself a glass of water, and took a drink. She put the glass down and put on a pair of reading glasses. She peered at the papers in front of her. She picked up a gavel. She tapped it three times on a small wooden block and said, "This court is now in session."

She glanced around the room for the first time. She looked grim. She looked over her audience as if renewing herself. Then she looked at the prisoners.

"A fair trial," she said, "presupposes that the defendant is a responsible human being, capable of understanding the difference between right and wrong and able to gauge his actions and their consequences on that basis." She looked at the prisoners. "Do you understand this?"

Delandro said, "We do not recognize your authority to try us."

"Do you understand the question?" Betty-John asked.

"We do not recognize your authority."

"Yes, I know. You don't recognize my authority. Be that as it may, I still have the authority. Do you understand the question? Let me repeat it. A fair trial presupposes that the defendant is a responsible human being, capable of understanding the difference between right and wrong and able to gauge his actions and their consequences on that basis. The outcome of this hearing is dependent on your ability to deal with the circumstances of the physical universe. Do you understand this?"