Mazzare had found that hard to believe, at first. That the butterfly effect was real, of course, he didn’t doubt for a moment. He had only to look around him to see the many ways in which the Ring of Fire had changed Europe in less than three years. But the idea that its effects could be felt that quickly, and across such a great distance . . .
Tom had shaken his head. “You’re mixing apples and oranges, Father. Sperm cells are a lot more sensitive to the environment than kings and queens—or housewives, for that matter. You’d be amazed how little it takes—”
There had followed a lengthy explanation in far more detail than Mazzare could follow. But, at the end, he’d been convinced that almost anyone who’d been conceived very long after the Ring of Fire in their old universe would never exist in this one. Although he had, smilingly, cautioned Tom not to tell Rebecca Stearns whenever she returned from Amsterdam that her much-prized adopted son “Baby Spinoza” probably wasn’t Spinoza at all.
“Not to worry,” Tom had replied, grinning. “In the immortal words of Muhammad Ali, ‘I’m bold but I’m not crazy.’ ” Then, much more seriously: “It doesn’t matter anyway. Whoever the kid is, genetically, he’ll be awfully close to the original. And since his environment’s been completely changed, he wouldn’t grow up the same even if he does have the identical genome. So who cares? All that matters now is that he’s Mike and Rebecca’s kid.”
It made Mazzare dizzy, sometimes, trying to follow the logic of the causal loops caused by the Ring of Fire. In this universe, “Methodism” would be founded, more than by anyone else, by the only two Methodist ministers in the world: his good friends Simon and Mary Ellen Jones. But when he’d said that to Simon once, his friend had shaken his head. “No, not really. Because we trace where we come from back to John Wesley—so he still does exist in this universe. If you look at it the right way. His soul exists here, even if his chromosomes never will.”
Mazzare could hardly argue with that. Whatever other doctrinal disputes he had with Simon Jones, the primacy of the spirit over matter was not one of them.
But he was woolgathering, he suddenly realized, while Mike had been talking. He was jolted out of the half-reverie by the last phrase Mike had spoken.
“—like to offer you a job.”
Mazzare sat up abruptly. “I’ve, ah, already got one.” He gestured vaguely at the bulk of St. Mary’s over the fence of the rectory garden. He was uncomfortably aware of having missed something important. Beer at lunchtime probably wasn’t a good idea, however nice a day it was, and whatever down-time custom might have to say on the matter.
“Yes, but this one’s important, and for the government,” Mike replied. “And I don’t think we’ve got a better man for the job available, frankly. I want you to be an ambassador.”
“I can’t!” Mazzare protested, almost as a reflex. “Anyway, parish priest’s a very important job by itself.” So’s ambassador, a treacherous little part of him said. He grabbed for the first lifeline to hand. “Anyway, I can’t. Separation of Church and State.”
“Ah, not so,” said Nasi. “We rather ignore your status as an ordained minister—”
“Priest!” Mazzare barked, wincing as soon he did so. Just because he was suddenly panicking, there was no reason to be rude.
“Priest, I thank you for the correction,” Nasi continued smoothly, “but we employ you in a secular capacity, if you follow me?”
Mazzare spotted the flaw immediately. “My parish, Don Francisco. This is my first responsibility, the cure of souls or to see it discharged. If you found a curate for me, another curate rather, while I’m away, that’s the state funding the church right there.”
“Again, and with the greatest of respect, not so, Father.” Don Nasi gave every impression of already having reached this point in the argument and having passed it some time ago. “Your stipend as an ambassador will be suitably generous to compensate you for the expenses of the post. Insofar as you choose to disburse some of it to a curate, that is done by you in your private management of what is, in law, your own household. Not a matter for the State at all.”