He smiled and said, “Very much so. More than most, I can say with seeming immodesty. Why is that? Because I have realized my human potentiality almost to its fullest. I can’t expect you to credit that. Nor will you, unless, some day … but that day may never come.
“However, regarding your question of my humanity. I have sometimes wondered if some people we have met are human. I mean, do they belong to Homo sapiens?
“Isn’t it possible, even highly probable, that the Whoevers responsible for all this have agents among us? For what purpose, I don’t know. But they could be catalysts to cause some kind of action among us. By action, I do not mean physical action, such as the building of the Riverboats and airships, though that may be part of it. I refer to psychic action. To a, shall we say, channeling of humanity? Toward what? Perhaps toward a goal somewhat similar to that which the Church of the Second Chance postulates. A spiritual goal, of refinement of the human spirit. Or perhaps, to use a Christian-Muslim metaphor, to separate the sheep from the goats.”
He paused and drew on his cigarette.
“To continue the religious metaphor, there may be two forces at work here, one for evil, one for good. One is working against the fulfillment of that goal.”
“What?” she said. Then, “Do you have any evidence for that?”
“No, only speculation. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think that Shaitan, Lucifer if you will, is actually conducting a cold war against Allah, or God, whom we Sufis prefer to name The Real .But I sometimes wonder if there isn’t a parallel to that in some sense … well, it is all speculation. If there are agents, then they look like human beings.”
“Do you know something I don’t?”
“I have ‘probably observed certain things. You have, too, the difference being that you have not put them into a pattern. A rather dark pattern it is. Though it is possible that I am looking at the wrong side of the pattern. If it were turned over, the other side might be blazing with light.”
“I wish I knew what you were talking about. Would you mind letting me in on this .. . pattern?”
He rose and tossed the cigarette stub into the lake. A fish rose, swallowed it, and splashed back.
“There are all sorts of activity going on beneath that mirror of water,” he said, pointing to the lake. “We can’t see them because water is a different element from the air. The fish know what’s going on down there, but that doesn’t do us much good. All we can do is to lower our hooks into the darkness and hope we catch something.
“I read a story once in which a fish sat down on the bottom of a deep, dark lake and extended his fishing pole into the air over the bank. And he caught men with his bait.”
“Is that all you’re going to say about that?”
He nodded, and said, “I presume you are coming to Firebrass’ farewell party tonight.”
“It’s a command invitation. But I hate going. It’ll be a drunken brawl.”
“You don’t have to soil yourself by joining the pigs in their swinishness. Be with but not of them. That will enable you to enjoy the thought of how superior you are to them.”
“You’re an ass,” she said. Then, quickly, “I’m sorry, Piscator. I’m the ass. You read me correctly, of course.”
“I think that Firebrass is going to announce tonight the ranking of the officers and pilots.”
She held her breath for a moment. “I think so, too, but I am not looking forward with pleasure to that.”
“You prize rank too highly. What is worse, you know it but will do nothing about it. In any event, I think you have an excellent chance.”
“I hope so.”
“Meanwhile, would you care to go out in the boat with me and participate in the angling?”
“No, thanks.”
She rose stiffly and pulled in the line. The bait was gone off the hook.
“I think I’ll go home and brood a while.”
“Don’t lay any eggs,” he said, grinning.