“What's that?"

Her satisfied smile broadened. “It's called an empathy spike. It's wired into my nervous system-into my brain. When I used it to hook into your nervous system, I felt everything that you felt."

“You read my mind?"

“No, stupid-it only picks up your physical sensations. I felt what your body felt, not your mind."

“Oh!” Once again, John was shocked-horrified, in fact. The concept was strange, but once he grasped it he loathed it immediately. It was the most obscene thing he had ever heard of. This woman had violated his privacy in a way he had never imagined, could never have imagined. It was bad enough that he had copulated so thoughtlessly with a freak, but it was infinitely worse, somehow, that she had felt his own sensations as it happened. He pulled away from her, instinctively curling himself into a semi-foetal position. “That's disgusting!” he spat.

“Oh, it's fun!” She giggled, then rolled over onto one elbow. “It's so much more fun with the spike!"

“It's disgusting!” he repeated.

“You think so?” She grinned. “I'll have to introduce you to Isao some time-if he lives long enough."

“Who is this Esau?” That was a name he could understand.

“Not Esau, Isao-it's Japanese, I think. He's painwired. He has his pain nerves hooked into the pleasure center of his brain; he feels every injury as pure pleasure. One of these days he'll get carried away and kill himself; he's already had to replace all his fingers and toes-and a few other things."

“Oh, Jesus!” John was suddenly unable to accept his situation. This was not possible; God could not permit such things to exist. This impossibly luxurious room, this woman who spoke so casually of the unspeakable, this entire building and all the People of Heaven, were abominations. It all had to be a nightmare. He fought down nausea and willed himself to wake up somewhere else.

“Hey, don't take it so badly!” Tuesday said. “I just thought it would be interesting to try it with a Godsworlder, someone different-and don't feel badly that you did it, because I put aphrodisiac in your drink; you couldn't help yourself.” Her almost apologetic tone suddenly gave way to another giggle. “You were pretty good, too-awfully quick, but you put your heart into it, you know what I mean? And with the spike I don't mind if it's quick."

John said nothing; he lay there, unable to awaken and convinced that it was all real after all, trying to gather up the shattered fragments of his thoughts.

“Hey, are you all right?"

He did not answer.

She said something totally alien; John was not even sure it was words. He closed his eyes, straining to think.

“The computer says that you're okay, just upset. I can't wait around all day, Joel; that wouldn't be any fun at all. I think you can find your way out if you try; I'll leave the door open.” He heard her moving about, heard the rustle of clothing.

“Wait,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Where are you from?"

“Me? Ho Chi Minh City. Why?"

“No, I mean, where are the People of Heaven from?” He opened his eyes and saw her ankles; a skirt hung above them, cut like the one she had worn before, but this one was a different color, a deep rich brown.

“Earth, mostly; they're a wholly-owned subsidiary of the New Bechtel-Rand Corporation. It was fun, Joel.” She walked away; her ankles vanished from his field of vision.

He lay there for a few seconds more, then uncurled and got slowly to his feet. As she had promised, the door to the corridor stood open. He walked unsteadily out into the passageway, chose a direction at random, and began looking for the exit.

From Earth? As far as John was concerned, such monsters of decadence could only be from Hell, and he had every intention of destroying them before they could harm Godsworld any further.

And the woman who had seduced him and used that infernal spike on him-if that whore was merely a “stockholder", which he guessed to be something like the Satanic equivalent of a deacon, then this America Dawes could be no less than the Great Whore of Babylon herself.

Could the spike have been poisoned after all? He felt weaker than mere emotional distress would seem to account for. But then, he had just… raped? Attacked? He had just had a woman, and he had been drugged; the unknown aphrodisiac might have side-effects.

If he had been poisoned he would fight it off. He drew strength from his fury. His uncertain walk became his usual firm stride, and ten minutes later, after a few false turns, he found the lobby he had entered through. He left the building and marched toward the inn.

Chapter Nine

“Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?"-Job 38:2

Lazarus Speaker-of-Gospel cocked his head sideways and stared at his nephew in annoyance.

“You're sure of all this?” he demanded.

“Yes, Elder,” John replied, “I am. You've heard Matt's testimony as well; I'm sorry that the heretic Miriam Humble-Before-God won't speak, and that we couldn't find any of the other surviving scouts, but you have the sworn word of two good men, good Christians, and good soldiers. Isn't that enough?"

“I'm not sure; by your own admission you were drugged by this woman, and Matthew never heard anyone claim to be from Earth, nor saw any of the shameful perversions you insist took place."

Hiding his own annoyance, John said, “He saw the guns, though, and rode this airship of theirs, and can swear that these people are strangers to Godsworld who live in sinful luxury and decadence. Three years ago the Citadel of Heaven was just another heretic community, up in the hills-now it's the home base of this growing protectorate that uses Earthly weapons and preaches against evangelism. Even if these strangers aren't Satan's minions sent from Earth-and I believe that that's exactly what they are-they are an evil force we've got to destroy.” Beside him, Matthew nodded agreement.

Lazarus sighed.

At the end of the council table Jacob Blessed-Among-Men barked impatiently, “Enough of this! These people are obviously a threat, and we have to destroy them; John's right about that. So what are we going to do about it?"

“Can't it wait until after we've fought the Chosen?” Simon Called-to-the-Truth whined.

“Their power is growing steadily,” John said. “Marshside was on the verge of joining their protectorate when we captured it; if we'd been a month later, we might've faced not just one machine gun, but a dozen."

“And that's something that troubles me,” old Isaac Fisher-of-Men said, shaking his head unsteadily. “What could you and your men-fine as they are-do against the weapons you say these people have? John, you lost what-thirty men against that one machine gun?"

“Thirty-one,” John admitted. “And two more who died later. But Elder, we were taken by surprise; we were charging down an open hillside, making ourselves perfect targets. We wouldn't be doing that against the People of Heaven; we know what we're facing this time."

“Do we? John, you may be a good soldier, but you don't know everything; there were weapons back on Earth that make machine guns look like children's slings. What if these people have them?"

“Why should they? They didn't come here to fight a war; they came to subvert us, lead us into the temptations of material wealth and sensual pleasure. If they have other, mightier weapons, why have they kept them secret? Why not let it be known, so that we would be more frightened than ever? Maybe Earth has lost some of its wonders, just as we have; maybe they couldn't bring that much with them. I don't know their reasons, but I don't believe they have any of these miracle weapons."