Vision of Tarot by Piers Anthony

  "Not the one I anticipated," Brother Paul said wryly. "But I'm glad if—"

  There was an abrupt pounding on the door. "Reverend Siltz, I will talk to you!" a female voice cried.

  Siltz's affability vanished. "I am not available!" he called.

  "Oh yes you are!" she said, pushing open the door. "I demand to know—"

  She broke off, seeing Brother Paul. She was a slip of a girl with dark hair flaring out like an old style afro though her skin was utterly fair, and she fairly radiated indignation. She was not beautiful, but well-structured, and her emotion made her attractively dynamic.

  "My house guest, Brother Paul of the Holy Order of Vision," Reverend Siltz said with ironic formality. "Jeanette, of the Church of Scientology."

  "The investigator from Planet Earth?"

  "Your son's—?" Brother Paul spoke at the same time as the girl.

  "The same," Reverend Siltz agreed, answering both. "Now, since we may not discuss religion, and I do not choose to discuss private affairs—"

  "Well, I choose to discuss both!" Jeanette flared. "What did you do with him?"

  Siltz did not answer.

  "I am not leaving this house until you tell me where you sent Ivan!" she exclaimed. "I love him—and he loves me!"

  The man remained silent. "This does not seem to be an opportune moment to discuss your concern," Brother Paul said to the girl. "You see, you place Reverend Siltz in the position of violating either his hospitality or his commitment to avoid discussing religion in my presence. I am not supposed to be influenced by—"

  Jeanette turned on Brother Paul. "Well, maybe someone should speak Church to you! How do you expect to do anything for this colony if you don't know anything about it?"

  Siltz looked surprised. "She has a point."

  "She may, at that," Brother Paul agreed. "But as long as this Covenant of yours is in force, it behooves us to honor it."

  "I will bring up the matter at the meeting tomorrow," Siltz said. "One does not have to agree with a given mission to prefer that it be done properly rather than bungled."

  "I'm bringing up my matter tonight," Jeanette exclaimed. Exclamation seemed to be her natural mode of expression. "You sent Ivan somewhere so he wouldn't be with me. You'll never get away with it! I have every right—"

  "You have no right!" Siltz roared. "He is my son, a dedicated Communist! He will marry a good, chaste, Communist Church maid."

  Jeanette's eyes blazed. Brother Paul was uncertain whether this was an optical effect of lamplight refraction, or an illusion stemming from her expression, but it was potent. "Do you claim I am not chaste?"

  It was evident that Siltz realized he had gone too far but he carried on gamely. "Your whole religion is unchaste!" he retorted. "Your O meters, your clouds—"

  "That's E meters and clears!" she cried. "Instruments and classifications to facilitate the achievement of perfection in life."

  "Instruments and means to separate fools from their money!"

  "There is no money here on Planet Tarot, and your son is no more fool than you are, being of your blood!"

  This reminded Brother Paul uncomfortably of The Dozens. If he didn't break it up, the language might degenerate to that stage. The lady was pressing Siltz hard. "Surely—"

  They ignored him. "Scientology remains a foolish cult," Siltz said hotly. "What good could come from the inventions of a science fiction writer turned psychologist and finally Messiah? I believe in the separation of Church and Fiction."

  "You believe in the separation of Church from common sense!" she cried. "Do you throw away good wood because it may have been harvested by a crew of another religion?"

  Siltz blanched, evidently recalling his recent conversation with Brother Paul. "No, I would not go that far. I seek a superior Communist way to utilize it, however."

  "If you think Communism is so much better, why doesn't Ivan agree?"

  "My son does agree! He's a good Communist!"

  "Then why not let him marry me? He might make a convert!"

  Siltz burst out laughing. "Never! A female canine like you would surely subvert him. That is why he must remain with his own—"

  "Where?" she demanded. "Where is there a maid of your faith for him with half as much to offer as I have?"

  Brother Paul made a silent whistle of amazement. This young woman certainly did not sell herself short!

  Siltz contemplated her with distaste. "What has a maid like you to offer besides transient sex appeal and an unstable personality?"

  She blazed again. "Transient! Unstable!" But then she caught herself. "I will not let you bait me; I will answer your question. My father was one of six brothers and two sisters. My grandparents are still alive and well on Earth. My great-grandfather lived to age 92, working until he died in an automobile accident where he was not at fault. I carry a heredity of strong, long-lived males and fruitful females. With me you would have grandsons to support you in your age, to cut wood for your winters—"

  "Enough," Siltz said. "I must admit you have some recommendations. But in what Church would those grandsons be raised?"

  She stared at him, abruptly silent.

  "What Church?" Siltz repeated.

  With an effort, now, she spoke. "I shall not deceive you. The Church of Scientology. They must be Clears."

  "Perhaps some compromise—" Brother Paul began.

  "No!" she flared. "No compromise! Not in religion!"

  "But as you pointed out," Brother Paul said, "common sense—"

  "To Hell with common sense! You don't know anything about it!" She spun about and marched out.

  "I'm sorry," Brother Paul said to Reverend Siltz. "I should have stayed out of it. I don't understand Planet Tarot attitudes. She's a spitfire."

  "No," Siltz said thoughtfully. "She is a good girl, better than I thought. She has good heredity, and she refuses to compromise her faith. She neither lies nor crawls, and she is intelligent. Did you observe the way she attacked me without ever actually insulting me? Never in the heat of argument did she forget her objective, which is to sell me, not alienate me. That was very clever management." He paced about the small room, his fingers linked behind his back. "My son is not strong; he can be swayed. He needs a steadfast woman. If there were many good, religious Communists to choose among, I would not compromise. But there are so few! Even the young women of other religions are a poor lot, like that harlot who tames the Breaker. Religion need not make a man a total fool. If I could strike a bargain, maybe for the first two grandsons—"

  "You mean the lady is taming the lion after all?" Brother Paul inquired.

  Reverend Siltz sighed. "I do not know. She is so small, I thought she was weak. Her Church is so crazy that, I thought she was crazy too. But strength is not necessarily of the body, and discipline stems from the soul." He looked up. "I will bring Ivan home. What follows—will follow."

  II

  Nature: 1O

  Thus the frontal lobes may be involved with peculiarly human functions in two different ways. If they control anticipation of the future, they must also be the sites of concern, the locales of worry... The price we pay for anticipation of the future is anxiety about it. Foretelling disaster is probably not much fun; Pollyanna was much happier than Cassandra. But the Cassandric components of our nature are necessary for survival. The doctrines for regulating the future that they produced are the origins of ethics, magic, science and legal codes. The benefit of forseeing catastrophe is the ability to take steps to avoid it, sacrificing short-term for long-term benefits. A society that is, as the result of such foresight, materially secure generates the leisure time necessary for social and technological innovation.

  —Carl Sagan: The Dragons of Eden, New York: Random House, Inc., 1977.

  The meeting was held in the morning at the village center, around and on the pile of wood. It appeared to be a complete turnout. Of course, time was not wasted, men and women were working quietly on basket weaving, sewing, carving, and tool sharpenin
g. One old woman was carefully binding metal blades to the ends of poles, fashioning spears; frequently she hefted a spear in one hand, testing its balance. The weapon-maker was certainly a vital member of this community! Brother Paul wondered idly whether she made tridents on alternate days.

  Reverend Siltz guided Brother Paul to the top of the pile, which was firmer than it had seemed. The wood had been carefully fitted, reminding him of the meshed stones of the Egyptian pyramids. Fuel storage this might be, but it was no casual matter.

  "We have no formal organization, no leader," Reverend Siltz explained on the way up. "We are unable to agree on such things. So we operate by lot and consensus. You will take charge, and make your report, and render your decision. Then perhaps we shall have unity."

  "But I have no decision!" Brother Paul protested. "I got all mixed up in Animation—"

  "No decision?" Siltz asked. "I assumed—"

  Lee and Therion and Amaranth were climbing behind them. "It is not Brother Paul's fault," Lee said. "We Watchers became enmeshed in this Animation, distorting it—and another person was drawn in, one not even scheduled to Watch. Perhaps others, too, that we do not know about. Brother Paul had no chance to work unfettered."

  Brother Paul paused in his ascent, thinking of something else. "The child—did she return to the village?"

  "No," Therion said gravely.

  So she remained in Animation—or lost in the wilderness. If she still lived. Bigfoot had entered Animation in the vicinity where she had been lost...

  Suddenly it came home to Brother Paul, from a new direction: Animation was no game.

  Reverend Siltz reached the top. A hush fell on the throng. "I was chosen by lot to host our visitor from Earth, Brother Paul of the Holy Order of Vision," he announced. "My opinion of this mission is not relevant. Brother Paul is a good man, a sincere man, and he has proffered advice on technical aspects of our colonization that may prove extremely helpful. But certain complications have occurred. I beg your indulgence while I explain."

  The crowd remained quiet, but Brother Paul could tell from the manner several people glanced up at Siltz that the explanation had to be convincing. If they thought the Communist had tried to interfere, or tried to influence Brother Paul's report, there would be trouble.

  After a moment, the Reverend continued: "We had not intended to send Brother Paul into full Animation at once. He was only experimenting in the fringe zone. Two Watchers remained outside: Mrs. Ellend and Pastor Runford."

  "The Christian Science Monitor and the Jehovah's Witness Watcher," Therion remarked. No one laughed.

  "Three more were placed within the Animation zone," Siltz continued. "A Mormon, a disciple of the Horned God, and a seeker of the Nine Unknown Men. We deemed this to be a sufficient representation for our purpose, this diversity of faiths. All were instructed to remain passive and not to attempt any Animations of their own; they were merely there to observe and to assist Brother Paul should his inexperience lead him into danger. However, he went further into the zone than we anticipated, and then a storm manifested. A volunteer, the priestess of Abraxas, entered the zone to warn Brother Paul of the probable expansion and intensification of the effect—but the storm developed rapidly, and she was herself trapped by the Animation. Thereafter, all the interior Watchers became involved, and the situation was out of control. Fortunately, the storm abated in due course and the effect receded—but one person did not emerge. Since Animation was returning, the search for her had to be aborted. In addition, Bigfoot appeared to be driven off, ironically, by the Breaker. Thus the mission was disastrous, and Brother Paul was unable to complete his quest for the true God of Tarot."

  There was a general sigh. Brother Paul saw the mixed chagrin and relief on these faces, and was ashamed. These colonists had with evident effort united enough to facilitate his mission, and he had let them down.

  "Swami Kundalini was recovered from the fringe area during the night, but remains in shock," Reverend Siltz continued. "The child he sought—must be presumed lost."

  "We should never have assigned a child!" a voice cried.

  Reverend Siltz ignored this. "Now I shall ask Brother Paul of Vision to make his report, to the extent he chooses, buttressed by the reports of the two surviving Watchers and the inadvertent participant. Then we must decide what to do."

  Brother Paul noted how delicately this gruff man phrased himself on this occasion. Siltz had established a broad option for Brother Paul to speak only on what points and to what extent he wished, had skirted the question of the fate of the child, and had shown none of his private opinion of Amaranth. The Communist Reverend was a fairly skilled public speaker. And politician.

  Now Siltz turned to Brother Paul. "We have only two rules for this meeting. We do not discuss the comparative merits of religions, and the speaker holds the floor until he yields it to another of his choice. Those who wish to take the floor after you will indicate this by raising their hands, and you will choose from among them. I now yield to you." And he made his way down the pile.

  Some floor! "I can only tell you in a general way what happened inside the Animation," Brother Paul said. "And why I think it failed. I would prefer not to go into detail; it became uncomfortably personal." For a moment he thought he smelled feces. There were scattered smiles. Many of these people knew what Animation was like, though probably they had not had as solid a taste of it as he had. "It seems that Animation, when several people participate, is a kind of play, whose elements are drawn from the minds of the participants. When there is one person, it may be a constant feedback of his own hopes and fears, exaggerating them until he is destroyed. When there are several people, as in this case, all contribute, and to a certain extent this mitigates the feedback and prevents unhealthy intensification of a single theme. But the result is an unpredictable presentation, as the wills of the players overlap. The events of Animation have their own reality; when one person sees a thing, all others see it exactly as he does, even though it may have no objective reality—or the reality it possesses is rather different from what it is perceived to be." He paused. "I fear this is unclear. I mean that if one person perceives a burnt tree trunk as a building, others will perceive it similarly, and they can touch it or verify it with any other sense. It is a real building, for the duration of the Animation."

  Brother Paul looked about and saw that they did understand. They were not, after all, newcomers to this concept. "When two people fight in Animation, the blows are solid, though they may perceive each other as strangers or even as monsters. And when a man and a woman make love—" He shrugged. "I did things like these. I am not proud of my performance. Some of my scenes were completely fantastic; others were reviews of events in my past life that I had forgotten or suppressed. I did not intend to—to do or remember these things. I turned out to be a weaker rede than I knew." Rede was not quite the word he wanted, but perfect phrasing did not always come when summoned. "I can only offer in explanation my theory of Animation precession: that the human mind is an immensely complex thing of psychic mass and inertia, weighted and freighted by a lifetime of experience. When pressure is put on it, it does not yield directly to the force, but shifts in an unexpected direction. I sought to find God; instead I found—shame. I do not know, or care to know, what I would have found if I had sought shame." He smiled, briefly. "Thus, I have no evidence whether the God of Tarot exists or which God He might be. I am sure my experience does not refute God, but neither does it confirm Him. I am sorry."

  Brother Paul looked about, hoping to find someone seeking the floor. Lee caught his eye. "I yield the floor to the Watcher, Lee, of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints."

  "Thank you, Brother Paul," Lee said. He stepped to the peak of wood, a handsome young man in the morning sunlight. "What Brother Paul has told you is true. But I wish to amend it somewhat. There was a play, and we were actors within it. But the rest of us neither controlled it nor contributed substantially to it. The play was governed
by the will of one person, and we assumed the roles that person dictated. That person was Brother Paul. I believe that a phenomenon called aura accounts for this control—"

  "Covenant!" someone called from the crowd.

  "I am not speaking religion," Lee said, frowning down at the interrupter. "I am speaking of a practical psychic force that—"

  "That is the heart of a dozen religions!" another person cried.

  "Then I can not speak," Lee said with resignation. He looked about. "Who wants the floor?"

  "I do!" a female cried. It was fiery little Jeanette, the lady suitor to Siltz's son.

  "I yield to you, Scientologist," Lee said gracefully.

  "I move we suspend the Covenant," Jeanette cried. "Brother Paul did not get anywhere because he was not allowed to know anything of our real nature. All he has seen is the polite play we put on for him, pretending everything is fine—so he found a play in Animation instead of God. Let him see us as we are now—a feuding rabble of religions!"

  There was an outcry of protest, but Jeanette would not be daunted. "I move we suspend the Covenant!" she repeated. "Do I have a second?"

  Now there was silence. "She has the floor until her motion is seconded or withdrawn," Lee murmured in Brother Paul's ear. "She can really tie up this meeting, if she doesn't care about what people think of her—and she doesn't. She's out to have her way, regardless."

  "What's wrong with her motion?" Brother Paul inquired. "I suspect she's right. I do need to understand this colony better—as it truly is."

  "There would be chaos," Lee said, and behind him Therion and Amaranth murmured agreement.

  "Bless it, I deserve a vote on my motion!" Jeanette cried. "We can't remain hog-tied for failure. Give me a second!"