Inside Outside Part 3

"Why should Sven do that?" said Fyodor.

"None of your business," Cull replied. "But I'll tell you anyway. Whenever X appears, we drop all other business and hold the lines open. We are trying to determine if X is more than one person. If He should appear simultaneously in two or more places in the City, we will know it because of our phone reports."

"Very clever," said Fyodor. "And so far?"

"So far, He's shown up in one place at a time," Cull said sourly. "But, quite often, He'll pick up a corpse in one section of the City, and then, a short time later, He'll be in another section as far as a hundred miles away. It's difficult to determine simultaneity because of the lack of accurate clocks. How can you synchronize two hourgla.s.ses in widely separated locations when a difference of environmental moisture or size of sand grains may cause one to lag the other? And you can't use sun dials when the sun never moves."

"If X were to appear in two areas at the exact moment when the sun died down or became bright again, then you'd know," said Fyodor.

"You're a gold mine," Cull said. He told Sven he would make the call. And he did, for he wanted to tell Stengarius of Fyodor's idea and so get the credit. But, before the lines could be cleared, he hung up. He had a second thought. The chances of X's showing in more than one spot, just at flareup or diedown time, were very remote. And the Exchange, in order to make sure of getting the reports in, would have to tie up the lines every time the sun darkened or brightened. It would be too expensive and too exasperating an operation. And, if it did not pay off within a short time, he'd be the goat for suggesting the plan.

The sirens wailed louder, and the ambulance sped around the corner. With a ripsaw cry, the wheels locked and the vehicle skidded to a stop just short of the dead woman. The pervert who had been on her jumped up and ran away with both of his bloodied hands held high above his head. He was laughing so shrilly he almost screamed. The spectators, according to their natures, laughed at him or looked sick or cursed him. Cull knew the fellow would not get too far. He had undoubtedly been noted by one of the Ex-change's agents and would soon find himself in its hands. The Exchange did not tolerate perverts of any kind, harmless or otherwise. But they were not killed, for then they might be out of reach.

So, the Exchange castrated them, cut out their tongues, amputated all four limbs, and thus made them unable to offend or harm anybody, even themselves. Nor were they rolled out upon the streets to shift for themselves. The Exchange took care of their simple wants at its own expense, kept them alive and clean, even gave them coffee now and then or a cigarette. The average citizen would be surprised at the vast numbers of s.e.xless, tongueless, handless, and footless men and women hidden from public view in the City. If he knew, he would have even more respect for the ability of the Exchange to keep law, order, and decency.

The doors of the ambulance slid into the cha.s.sis, and three men got out of the driver's cab. Two, the driver and his a.s.sistant, were dressed in tight-fitting scarlet uniforms with gold braid and big shiny black b.u.t.tons and fur shakos. These marked them as servants of The Authorities, because such clothes were unavailable to anybody else. The third man, undeniably X, was dressed in the white robe He wore in the conventional por-traits qf Him (if it were He) on Earth. His reddish hair was long, and his reddish beard fell to just below his chest. His muscular and well-shaped legs were bare, and he wore sandals.

The face was the face most people think Christ should have. But -- a jarring note -- he wore dark gla.s.ses. n.o.body, as far as the Exchange could determine, had ever seen him without the eye-concealing devices. And this was driving its agents crazy. Why should X wear dark gla.s.ses?

Another mystery was why He -- or he -- bothered to appear. He never resurrected in public or per-formed any miracles. He merely supervised the placing of the body in the ambulance. Oc-casionally, he made a short speech. It was always the same. And this was one of the times, for, after the body had been placed inside the vehicle, he began talking. His voice was high and sweet, and he spoke the pidgin Hebrew in which all except the newcomers were fluent.

"Once there was a man who lived a good life. Or so he thought, and as a man thinks, so he is, isn't he?

"This man grew white-haired and wrinkled while the results of a good life piled up around him.

He owned a big home, and he had a faithful and uncomplaining wife, many friends, many honors, many sons and daughters, even more grandchildren, and some great-grandchildren. But, as all men do, he came to the end of his days and lay on his deathbed. He could afford the best doctors and medicine on Earth, but these could help him no more than the worst of quacks and best of placebos. The only thing they could do for him was to place the crucifix in his hands, the crucifix which bore the figure of the G.o.d-man he had adored and obeyed all his long life.

"The man died but he woke up in a strange place and facing a stranger.

" 'So this is heaven,' said the old man.

" 'That depends,' said the stranger. He handed the old man a long two-edged sword. 'To get into Heaven, you must use this sword. If you refuse, you will be in h.e.l.l.'

" 'And what must I do with the sword?' said the old man.

" 'You will follow that path,' said the stranger, pointing to a trail through the woods. 'It leads to a brook. Beside it, playing on the banks, will be a beautiful little girl of six. She seems to be all purity, merriment, and innocence now. But, when she becomes a woman, she will be as evil as it is possible for a human being to be. She will cause the deaths of hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children.

She will order the tortures of hundreds and will enjoy the screams. Moreover, she will have a boy baby who will grow up to be as evil as she.

" 'You will kill this little girl. Now.'

" 'Kill her!' said the old man. 'Surely, you must be joking, although I do not see the humor. Or is this some sort of final test for me?'

" 'It is a test,' said the stranger. 'And, believe me, I am not joking. I cannot. You will not be able to get into Heaven unless you kill this child.'

" 'Look around you. Do you recognize your country estate? You are yet on Earth, the crossroads between Heaven and h.e.l.l. Which path you take from here is up to you. That is, whether you choose to crush the seed of great evil now, before it has a chance to burst the sh.e.l.l, and therefore do a great and good act. Or if you place mundane morality above the love for man and G.o.d.'

" 'But I am a good man!' said the old man. 'You want me to do an evil to prove I am good!'

" 'Surely,' said the stranger, 'you must have read and heard that no man is good? Only G.o.d is good. Those are the words of Christ, who denied that even He was good.'

"Saying which, the stranger walked away. The old man watched him, expecting him to sprout wings and fly away. Or, perhaps, to grow horns, hooves, tails, and plunge into a gap in the earth suddenly appearing below him. For the thought had come to him that the stranger could be an angel but a fallen angel.

"However, surely Heaven would not allow him to be confronted by a demon. Not after he had successfully resisted the Devil all his life and clung to the ways of G.o.d. It would not be fair to expose him to evil after he had died. It would be unfair. Unheard of. Never had the priests mentioned such a possibility nor had he read of such an event.

"Nevertheless, unfair, unjust as it seemed, he was holding a sharp sword in his hand, and he had been told what to do. Slowly, he walked over the path and soon came to the little girl playing by the brook. And he recognized her as his own great-grandchild, daughter of his favorite grandson. She was a happy, a beautiful, and an exceptionally in-telligent child. How could she ever become what the stranger had predicted?

"Predicted? If the future could be foretold, if it were already determined, then this little girl had no choice of action, no free will. She was a puppet jerking on the strings of G.o.d. Why kill her for evil she was doomed to commit?

"But, then, he remembered what a priest had once told him and what he had also read. That, though the future may be hidden to men, it has long ago been unrolled before the eyes of G.o.d. He has seen it all from the beginning to end; time, in the human sense, does not exist for Him; Alpha and Omega can be scanned in one sweep of the divine eye. Men do have free will, but they do not know what they are going to do.

"But that cannot be, thought the old man. If I kill this child, then she will not commit those great evils in the future. So, she will die an innocent, and the future that G.o.d sees now is without her.

Therefore, how can He see her and her actions in the future? He cannot. The future is not unveiled to Him, but He has ordained the path it must take. He has ordained that this sweet child must die now or else grow up to be a monster. We are predestined.

"If that is so, thought the old man, why did G.o.d create us in the first place? At the moment he molded Adam's clay, He knew that billions would go to h.e.l.l and some few to Heaven. Did He create because the little good outweighs the vast evil? Or because He is the Creator and cannot help creating, no matter what the consequences to His helpless creations?

"The old man did not know. To think only con-fused matters. For every thought there was a counterthought, and, for each counterthought, another. The fact was that, to do good, he must do evil.

That was that. The only way a man could act was to abandon thought and have faith.

"So the old man walked softly up to the little girl, whose back was to him. He raised the sword.

"Then, another thought came to him. . ."

Here X always ended his speech. Fyodor, who had been standing at Cull's side, began sobbing loudly. Tears ran down his cheeks and soaked his beard.

"I've heard him tell that story at least twelve times," he said. "And I am sure now that if I could correctly finish the story, I'd be free, out of this place!"

"It's just another trick to keep us guessing, hoping," Cull said, looking at X and hating him.

"What do you mean?" said Fyodor, grasping Cull's arm with both his hands and staring at him with wet eyes.

"He's another of the false prophets," Cull said. And then he began to wonder if X was not the agent for an organization similar to the Exchange but unknown to it. If that were so, what profit did X and his organization derive? And why had He been given the power to raise the dead if He were only a man?

Fyodor continued to ask what Cull meant. But he could not explain to Fyodor that the Exchange developed rumors into new religions and profited by the power it wielded over the converts and their contributions to the Exchange. Even now, men and women all over the City were preparing ser-mons based on the first of the surmises Fyodor had told him over the phone. They would bring the Good News. And people, who craved hope more than food, would listen and believe. Then, when faith began to flag because of lack of fulfillment of promises, a new hope would be presented to them. And they would be converted again.

Of course, there was always a knot of diehards who clung to the old. These, too, were manip-ulated by the Exchange. Fingers in every theological pie. . .

"This must be He!" said Fyodor. "Thereis hope! All is not lost! Cull, you know that time here seems to have little relation to Earth-time. We know that He came to h.e.l.l for three days. Three terrestrial days, yes! But how many infernal days? Or purgatorial days, which I prefer. Perhaps, He may be here until the last man on Earth has died. Yet, on Earth, He long long ago rose from the tomb and ascended to Heaven. Why not?Can you prove I'm wrong? Wouldn't it be more humane, the fairest thing to do? To give us another chance?"

"You're insane," Cull said while he wondered how soon he could get to the phone and tell Stengarius of this new concept. "I can't prove you're wrong, but you can't prove you're right. It was that way on Earth, and it's that way here."

"Faith! Faith is the only way! Love for Him!" cried Fyodor, and he rushed forward until he reached X, knelt down, and grabbed the hem of X's robe and began kissing it.

"Master!" he shouted. "Tell me I am here only to be purged of my sins and my doubts! You know that I have always loved You! I would love You even if You were wrong! If you were condemned to eternal exile here or chose to stay forever because of Your love for man, then I would gladly forego Heaven and stay by Your side throughout eternity!"

X looked kindly at Fyodor and touched him lightly on the head. But he pa.s.sed him without a word.

Cull could not explain why Fyodor enraged him. But he picked up a fist-sized piece of basalt, chipped off a fallen gargoyle, and threw it. The stone hit Fyodor in the back of the head, and he fell forward on his face. Blood trickled from the cut.

At sight of the blood, the crowd gave a roar. Sullen but silent in the presence of X, it now came to life and loudness. It surged forward, seized the two aides and X, and also began rocking the am-bulance. Within three minutes, the ambulance was lying on its side. There was nothing left of the two aides and X but scattered pieces of flesh and clothing and three mutilated heads.

Abruptly, the mob fell silent. Men and women stared at each other. Their hands, dripping blood, dropping fragments of flesh from the fingernails, were held away from their bodies. Some had blood on their mouths. Suddenly, panic swept them away down the street as if they were dried leaves blown by a wind. Fyodor and Cull were the only ones left.

By then, Fyodor was sitting up, feeling the back of his head and groaning.

"You really started something," Cull said. "You shouldn't have hailed him as the true Christ. That made everybody mad, you know. n.o.body likes blasphemy."

Accusing him was not unjust, for he really had instigated the whole affair. If he had not done what he did, he would not have enraged Cull. Anyway, what was the difference? If X was a man or a demon, he would be resurrected again. No lasting harm done. If X was the One Fyodor thought He was, He would not be harmed.

"Stay here," Cull said to Fyodor. He went to the building where the Exchange had its local phone. n.o.body was in the office. The lynching must have scared the Exchange agents, too. What did they think they were running away from? Lightning? An avenging G.o.d? Nothing would happen. Even as he lifted the phone, he could hear sirens wailing in the distance.

Cull began to tell Stengarius what had hap-pened. But Stengarius said, "Where's Phyllis? Is she all right? Put her on the line.''

Cull was taken aback. "I. . . I don't know. She's on a palanquin, you know. So, she's not traveling as fast as I. Although," he added, maliciously, "much more comfortably."

"O.K." said Stengarius irritably. "I'll ring up some posts on the way, find out if they've seen her.

And don't get smart with us, Cull."

"Sorry, sir," said Cull. "I didn't mean to give that impression. I was just commenting, that's all."

"Don't let it happen again. The moment Phyllis gets in, tell her to call me."

"Yes, sir. Did you get any reports of X ap-pearing elsewhere?"

"We just finished checking out the last twenty reports," said Stengarius. "According to our hourgla.s.s, about ten minutes has elapsed between each appearance of X. This includes your area."

"Hold the phone a minute," Cull said. "Here comes another ambulance. I'll see if X is with it." He stepped over to the huge gla.s.sless window and leaned out. The ambulance whipped around the corner so fast that it sc.r.a.ped against a building and skidded to a stop just short of Fyodor. He was sitting in the street and holding the head of X against his chest.

Two men jumped out of the ambulance. Neither was X. Cull was going to return to the phone to report when he noticed that the men were very sloppily dressed. One wore no headcovering, and his coat was unb.u.t.toned. The other was barefooted and was clenching a half-smoked cigar between his teeth. This unheard-of slovenliness was strange enough. But when they began eating the gobbets of flesh -- raw -- he knew something was wrong. And when he saw them drag the body of the woman out of the first ambulance and begin to cut her up with a knife one of them took from his pocket, he became alarmed.

Stengarius, hearing his report, also became ex-cited. "I just had reports of two other ambulance personnel behaving extrordinarily," he said. "Moreover, there are many corpses that haven't been taken away for some time. What is going on?"

"No sign of X?" Cull said.

"You're the last to see him. I don't know. Something funny happening, only it's not so funny.

Also, according to the Statistics Depart-ment, the influx of newcomers has dropped to almost zero. This happened a few hours ago. It's as if the door to Earth had been slammed shut."

"No explanation?"

"Only thing we can figure out is that the last of those killed in the nuclear war on Earth have come in."

Cull was chilled.

"You mean that all of humanity is dead?"

"It's too early to say."

"Listen, Stengarius."

"Quit breathing so hard."

"You're panting yourself. What I was going to say. . . the last time immigration was cut off so drastically was when the fires went out. Before that, when this place was changed from a Copernican to an Einsteinian universe. Before that, when the Ptolemaic structure was reorganized into a Copernican.

The two former changes were catastrophic."

"What're you trying to say?" shouted Stengarius. "That we're about to go through another cataclysm? You must be crazy! You're saying that Einstein was wrong and that. . . listen, you'd bet-ter quit talking so crazy. You trying to undermine the Exchange? You. . ."

"I was just speculating," Cull said. "That's what I get paid for. Here's what I'm going to do, if you permit me to, of course. I'm getting this Fyodor ape on his feet, and we're going to get to the bottom of this world. Maybe literally. He said something about looking in the sewers, and I think he may have something hot. You got any orders for me before I leave?''

"Just keep in touch. G.o.d knows what's going on. Oh, yeah, don't forget about Phyllis."

Cull returned to the street and found Fyodor standing with the head of X in his arms. The two ambulance personnel -- demons, not men, he sup-posed -- were leaning against the hood of the vehicle and munching away. They paid no at-tention to the two men.

It took some time for Cull to get Fyodor to leave the head of X. He kept babbling of the blessed blood, and it was then that Cull saw that his face and beard were smeared with wet red.

"Do you believe in magic?" Cull said. "Do you think you'll become holy now because you're covered with his blood? Next, you'll be drinking it like wine."

"I did, I did!" Fyodor cried, looking rap-turous.

"And I suppose you ate some of his flesh?"

"Yes! And I could feel the divinity flowing in my veins. It was like lightning streaking down my throat, searing through the flesh. I felt like a G.o.d. No, that's blasphemy. I felt part of Him."

"So, now you're X," Cull said. "Do you plan on taking His place?"

And he stopped walking, stood there while Fyodor walked on several steps before he turned to see what was delaying Cull.

Cull wondered why he had not thought of this before? Why had no one else? Or had they, and was X living (though now dead) proof of this? But, if he were, he belonged to an organization with resources unavailable to the Exchange.

Of course, this would not keep the Exchange from dealing in false X's. They could then pick up the dead and dispose of them through the various black markets. And when the genuine X showed up, he would be accused by Exchange agents of being a fake. Organized mob violence would tear the real article apart just as he had been torn apart here. Before you could say XYZ, the Exchange would have eliminated the opposition.

Only. . . if X was one of the never-seen Authorities, or one of Their agents, then The Authorities would come down on the Exchange. So far, They had never interfered with its operations. But, the Exchange had never in-terfered with Theirs.

Oh, yes, it had. X had been mobbed and killed before. But that had been spontaneous violence.

Yet the killers, as far as was known, had never been punished.

Maybe there were no Authorities.

There had to be. No human agency was capable of resurrecting the dead or getting to the scene of death so quickly. Or could it be that The Authorities had given certain human beings certain powers -- or scientific devices -- which enabled them to perform resurrec-tion? And then the Authorities had gone back to wherever they had come from?

There was one way to find out. He was a fool for not having thought of it before.

Fyodor, alarmed at Cull's sudden departure, called, "Where are you going?"