He laughed.
“You think I’m joking. I’ll take you to the zoo. I’ll show you.”
“I think you’re serious.” Again he laughed; it delighted him. “The Evil One in a cage at the zoo-what, with his own temper- ature and gravity and atmosphere, and imported food? An exotic life form?”
“He’s angry as hell about it,” Zina said.
“I’m sure he is. What do you have planned for me, Zina?”
She said, soberly, “The truth, Yahweh. I will show you the truth before you leave here. I would not cage the Lord our God. You are free to roam my land; you are free here, Yahweh, en- tirely. I give you my word.”
“Vapors,” he said. “The bond of a zina.”
After some difficulty she found a slot in which to park her flycar. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s stroll around looking at the cherry blossoms. Yahweh; their color is mine, their pink. That is my hallmark. When that pink light is seen, I am near.”
“I know that pink,” he said. “It is the human phosphene response to full-spectrum white, to pure sunlight.”
As she locked up the flycar she said, “See the people.”
He looked about him. And saw no one. The trees, heavy with blossoms, lined the Tidal Basin in a great semicircle. But, despite the parked cars, no persons walked anywhere.
“Then this is a fraud,” he said.
Zina said, “You are here, Yahweh, so that I can postpone your great and terrible day. I do not want to see the world scourged. I want you to see what you do not see. Only the two of us are here; we are alone. Gradually I will unfold my realm to you, and, when I am done, you will withdraw your curse on the world. I have watched you for years, now. I have seen your dislike of the human race and your sense of its worthlessness. I say to you, It is not worthless; it is not worthy to die-as you phrase it in your pompous fashion. The world is beautiful and I am beautiful and the cherry blossoms are beautiful. The robot teller at the savings and loan-even it is beautiful. The power of Belial is mere occlusion, hiding the real world, and if you attack the real world, as you have come to Earth to do, then you will destroy beauty and kindness and charm. Remember the crushed dog dying in the ditch at the side of the road? Remember what you felt about him; remember what you knew him to be. Remem- ber the inscription that Elias composed for that dog and that dog’s death. Remember the dignity of that dog, and at the same time remember that the dog was innocent. His death was man-
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dated by cruel necessity. A wrong and cruel necessity. The dog-”
“I know,” he said.
“You know what? That the dog was wrongly treated? That he was born to suffer unjust pain? It is not Belial that slew the dog, it is you, Yahweh, the Lord of Hosts. Belial did not bring death into the world because there has always been death; death goes back a billion years on this planet, and what became of that dog -that is the fate of every creature you have made. You cried over that dog, did you not? I think at that point you understood, but now you have forgotten. If I were to remind you of anything I would remind you of that dog and of how you felt; I would want you to remember how that dog showed you the Way. It is the way of compassion, the most noble way of all, and I do not think you genuinely have that compassion, I really don’t. You are here to destroy Belial, your adversary, not to emancipate mankind; you are here to wage war. Is that a fit thing for you to do? I wonder. Where is the peace that you promised man? You have come with a sword and millions will die; it will be the dying dog multiplied millions of times. You cried for the dog, you cried for your mother and even Belial, but I say, If you want to wipe away all the tears, as it says in Scripture, go away and leave this world because the evil of this world, what you call ‘Belial’ and your ‘Adversary’ is a form of illusion. These are not bad people. This is not a bad world. Do not make war on it but bring it flowers.” Reaching, she broke off a sprig of cherry blossoms; she extended it to him, and, reflexively, he accepted it.
“You are very persuasive,” he said.
“It is my job,” she said. “I say these things because I know these things. There is no deceit in you and there is no deceit in me, but just as you curse, I play. Which of us has found the Way? For two thousand years you have bided your time until you could slip back into Belial’s fortress to overthrow him. I suggest that you find something else to do. Walk with me and we will see flowers. It is better. And the world will prosper as it always has. This is the springtime. It is now that flowers grow, and with me there is dancing also, and the sound of bells. You heard the bells and you know that their beauty is greater than the power of evil. In some ways their beauty is greater than your own power, Yah- weh, Lord of Hosts. Do you not agree?”
‘Magic,” he said. “A spell.”
“Beauty is a spell,” she said, “and war is reality. Do you want the sobriety of war or the intoxication of what you see now, here in my world? We are alone now, but later on people will appear; I will repopulate my realm. But I want this moment to speak to you plainly. Do you know who I am? You do not know who I am, but finally I will lead you step by step back to your throne, you the Creator, and then you will know who I am. You have guessed but you have not guessed right. There are many guesses left for you-you who know everything. I am not Holy Wisdom and I am not Diana; I am not a zina; I am not Pallas Athena. I am something else. I am the spring queen and yet I am not that either; these are, as you put it, vapors. What I am, what I truly am, you will have to ferret out on your own. Now let’s walk.”
They walked along the path, by the water and the trees.
“We are friends, you and I,” Emmanuel said. “I tend to listen to you.”
“Then postpone your great and terrible day. There is nothing good in death by fire; it is the worst death of all. You are the solar heat that destroys the crops. For four years we have been to- gether, you and I. I have watched as your memory returned and I have regretted its return. You afflicted that miserable woman who was your mother; you sickened your own mother whom you say you love, whom you cried over. Instead of making war against evil, cure the dying dog in the ditch and wipe away thereby your own tears. I hated to see you cry. You cried because you regained your own nature and comprehended that nature. You cried because you realized what you are.”
He said nothing.
“The air smells good,” Zina said.
“Yes,” he said.
“I will bring the people back,” she said. “One by one, until they are all around us. Look at them and when you see one whom
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you would slay, tell me and I will banish that person once more. But you must look at the person whom you would slay-you must see in that person the crushed and dying dog. Only then do you have the right to slay that person; only when you cry are you entitled to destroy. You understand?”
“Enough,” he said.
“Why didn’t you cry over the dog before the car crushed him? Why did you wait until it was too late? The dog accepted his situation but I do not. I advise you; I am your guide. I say, It is wrong what you do. Listen to me. Stop it!”
He said, “I have come to lift their oppression.”
“You are impaired. I know that; I know what happened in the Godhead, the original crisis. It is no secret to me. In this condi- tion you seek to lift their oppression through a great and terrible day. Is that reasonable? Is that how you free the prisoners?”
“I must break the power of-”
“Where is that power? The government? Bulkowsky and Harms? They are idiots; they are a joke. Would you kill them? The talion law that you laid down; I say: