100 Philip K. Dick The Divine Invasion 101
provides sustenance for the entire world, from huge beasts to lice. During the fourth, He sports with the Leviathan, as it is written, “Leviathan, which you did form to sport with” (Ps. 104:26) … During the fourth group of three hours (according to others) He teaches schoolchildren.’
“Thank you,” Herb Asher said. Three Immigration agents were moving toward them, now, their uniforms bright, shiny; and they carried weapons.
Elias said, “Even God consults the Torah as the formula and blueprint of the universe.” An Immigration agent held out his hand for Elias’s identification; the old man passed the packet of documents to him. “And even God cannot act contrary to it.”
“You are Elias Tate,” the senior Immigration agent said, ex- amining the documents. “What is your purpose in returning to the Sol System?”
“This woman is very ill,” Elias said. “She is entering the naval hospital at-”
“I asked you your purpose, not hers.” He gazed down at Herb Asher. “Who are you?”
“I’m her husband,” Herb said. He handed over his identifica- tion and permits and documentation.
“She is certified as not contagious?” the senior Immigration agent said.
“It’s multiple sclerosis,” Herb said, “which is not-”
“I didn’t ask you what she has; I asked you if it is contagious.”
“I’m telling you,” he said. “I’m answering your question.” “Get up.” He stood.
“Come with me.” The senior Immigration agent motioned Herb Asher to follow him up the aisle. Elias started to follow but the agent shoved him back, bodily. “Not you.”
Following the Immigration agent, Herb Asher made his way step by step up the aisle to the rear of the ship. None of the other passengers was standing; he alone had been singled out.
In a small compartment marked CREW ONLY the senior Immi gration agent faced Herb Asher, staring at him silently; the man’s eyes bulged as if he were unable to speak, as if what he had to say could not be said. Time passed. What the hell is he doing? Herb Asher asked himself. Silence. The raging stare con- tinued.
“Okay,” the Immigration agent said. “I give up. What is your purpose in returning to Earth?”
“I told you.
“Is she really sick?”
“Very. She’s dying.”
“Then she’s too sick to travel. It makes no sense.
“Only on Earth are there facilities where-”
“You are under Terran law now,” the Immigration agent said. “Do you want to serve time for giving false information to a federal officer? I’m sending you back to Fomalhaut. The three of you. I don’t have any more time. Go back to where you were sitting and remain there until you’re told what to do.”
A voice, a neutral, dispassionate voice, neither male nor fe- male, a kind of perfect intelligence, spoke inside Herb Asher’s head. “At Bethesda they want to study her disease.”
He started visibly. The agent regarded him.
“At Bethesda,” he said, “they want to study her disease.”
“Research?”
”It’s a microorganism.”
“You said it isn’t contagious.”
The neutral voice said, “Not at this stage.”
“Not at this stage,” he said aloud.
“Are they afraid of plague?” the Immigration agent said abruptly.
Herb Asher nodded.
“Go back to your seat.” The agent, irritably, waved him away. “This is out of my jurisdiction. You have a pink form, form 368? Properly filled out and signed by a doctor?”
“Yes.” It was true.
“Are either you or the older man with you infected?”
The voice inside his head said, “Only Bethesda can determine that.” He had, suddenly, a vivid inner glimpse of the person
102 Philip K. Dick
whose voice he heard; he saw in his own mind a visage, female, a placid but strong face. A metal mask had been pushed back from that visage, exposing wise, impassive eyes; a beautiful classic face, like Athena; he was staggered with astonishment. This could not be Yahweh. This was a woman. But like no woman he had ever seen. He did not know her. He did not understand who this was. Her voice was not Yah’s voice, and this could not be Yah’s visage. He did not know what to make of it. He was perplexed beyond the telling of it. Who had taken on the task of advising him?
“Only Bethesda can determine that,” he managed to say.
The Immigration agent paused uncertainly. His exterior harshness had evaporated.
The female voice whispered again, and this time, in his mind, he saw her lips move. “Time is of the essence.
“Time is of the essence,” Herb Asher said. His voice grated in his own ears.
“Shouldn’t you be quarantined? You probably shouldn’t be with other people. Those other passengers- We should have you on a special ship. It can be arranged. It might be better . we could get her there faster.”
“OK,” he said. Reasonably.
“I’ll put in a call,” the Immigration agent said. “What’s the name of this microorganism? It’s a virus?”
“The nerve sheathing-”
“Never mind. Go back to your seat. Look.” The Immigration agent followed after him. “I don’t know whose idea it was to send you on a commercial carrier, but I’m getting you off of it right now. There are strict statutes that haven’t been observed, here. Bethesda is expecting you? Do you want me to put in a call ahead, or is that all taken care of?”
“She is registered with them already.” This was so. The ar- rangements had been made.
“This is really nuts,” the Immigration agent said, “to put you on a public carrier. They should have known better back at Fo- malhaut.”
“CY3O-CY3OB,” Herb Asher said. The Divine Invasion 103
“Whatever. I don’t want any part of this. A mistake of this kind-” The Immigration agent cursed. “Some dumb fool back at Fomalhaut probably figured it’d save the taxpayers a few bucks- Take your seat and I’ll see that you’re notified when your ship is ready. It should- Christ.”
Herb Asher, shaking, returned to his seat.
Elias eyed him. Rybys lay with her eyes shut; she was obliv- ious to what was happening.
“Let me ask you a question,” Herb said to Elias. “Have you ever tasted Laphroaig Scotch?”
“No,” Elias said, puzzled.
“It is the finest of all Scotches,” Herb said. “Ten years old, very expensive. The distillery opened in 1815. They use tradi- tional copper stills. It requires two distillations-”
“What went on in there?” Elias said.
“Just let me finish. Laphroaig is Gaelic for ‘the beautiful hol- low by the broad bay.’ It’s distilled on Islay in the Western Isles of Scotland. Malted barley-they dry it in a kiln over a peat fire, a genuine peat fire. It’s the only Scotch made that way now. The peat can only be found on the island of Islay. Maturation takes place in oak casks. It’s incredible Scotch. It’s the finest liquor in the world. It’s-” He broke off.
An Immigration agent came over to them. “Your ship is here, Mr. Asher. Come with me. Can your wife walk? You want some help?”
“Already?” He was dumbfounded. And then he realized that the ship had been there all this time. Immigration was routinely prepared to deal with emergency situations. Especially of this kind. Or rather, what they supposed this situation to be.
“Who wears a metal mask?” Herb said to Elias as he drew the blanket from Rybys. “Pushed back up over her hair. And has a straight nose, a very strong nose-well, let it go. Give me a hand.” Together, he and Elias got Rybys to her feet. The Immi- gration agent watched sympathetically.
“I don’t know,” Elias said.
“There is someone else,” Herb said as they moved Rybys step by step up the aisle.
104 Philip K. Dick
“I’m going to throw up,” Rybys said weakly.
“Just hang on,” Herb Asher said. “We’re almost there.”
——————–
Big Noodle notified Cardinal Fulton Statler Harms and the Procurator Maximus, and then, to all the heads of states in the world it printed out the following mystifying statement:
ON THE STANDARD OF FIFTY THEY SHALL WRITE: FINISHED IS
THE STAND OF THE FROWARD THROUGH THE MIGHTY ACTS
OF GOD, TOGETHER WITH THE NAMES OF THE COMMANDERS
OF THE FIFTY AND OF ITS TENS. WHEN THEY GO OUT TO
BATTLE, THEY SHALL WRITE UPON THEIR WPSOX TO FORM A
COMPLETE FRONT. THE LINE IS TO CONSIST OF A THOUSAND
MEN MEN MEN MEN MEN EACH FRONT LINE IS TO BE SEVEN
SEVEN SEVEN DEEP, ONE MAN STANDING BEHIND THE OTHER
STOP REPEAT ALL OF THEM ARE TO HOLD SHIELDS OF POL- ISHED BRONZE REPEAT BRONZE RESEMBLING MIRRORS THESE
SHIELDS
The statement ended there. Technicians swarmed over the A.I. system in a matter of minutes.
Their verdict: the A.I. system would have to be shut down for a time. Something basic had gone wrong with it. The last coherent information it had processed was the message that the pregnant woman Rybys Rommey-Asher, her husband, Herbert Asher, and their companion, Elias Tate, had been cleared by Immigration at Ring III and had been transferred from a commercial axial carrier to a government-owned speedship, whose destination was Wash- ington, D.C.