“Hurt?” Rev scoffed. “Are you gonna worry about whether it hurts? This is one of the deepest mysteries of the faith. If you don’t love the King enough to put up with a little bit of hurtin’, I’m not a-gonna push you, son. You’re not doin’ this for me, you’re doin’ it for yourself-and for him. “
“The King sang about hurtin’,” said another of the recruits, Freefall. “He wasn’t afraid to walk down Lonely Street…” Her voice carried just enough of a hint of disapproval to suggest that Roadkill was being shortsighted and selfish-that Roadkill’s faith might even be open to question.
“He asked us not to be cruel,” riposted Roadkill. “Besides, I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do it. I just want to know ahead of time if it hurts, and you don’t know any more about that than I do. The only one here who’s gone through with it is Rev, and from what he said, I guess it does hurt.”
“It don’t hurt all that much, though,” said Rev, stepping forward and smiling. Then he cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. “Besides, there’s another choice you all need to make before you go any further-a choice you might not even realize you have.”
“Another choice?” Freefall raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t it enough for us to give up our own appearance to take on His? A face none of us was born with?”
“That’s right, there’s still another choice,” said Rev. ” `Cause even the King had more than one way he looked. Why don’t y’all set down and let me show you some holos. There are a few li’l constraints on account of bone structure and all, but even with all that, you’ve got a bunch of different models to pick from.” He motioned toward the seats, and with only a little confusion, the disciples obediently took their places.