A Million Little Pieces Of My Mind

Andre Marquette reclined on the lounge on the altar of the Church of the Highest Heavens. Before him were dozens of worshippers praying in unison from little cards distributed by the blue-robed priests. His scalp still burnt a little from the bleach used on it hours before, but the pain didn't bother him. He could handle pain. That was only one of the things he had mastered years ago, back when he had embarked on his career of making money by every and any means possible.

Not that he was a materialist. Marquette preferred to think of himself as a realist. Aware that he had been born to a life on Earth unasked, he had decided to make the best of it. —And that philosophy transferred itself to Kiri with very little difficulty. No difficulty, really, since the local religion held materialism in high esteem.

Marquette shifted his position slightly and was unable to avoid wincing at the memory of pain it caused in his side. He had to be grateful to Kiri's advanced medical science; without it he would have died minutes after his arrival on this amazing planet.

In spite of his claimed disinterest in whether he lived or died, Marquette's heart still chilled when he recalled that leap across the pyramid pit in far-away Africa. He had believed himself the master of any situation, yet he had frozen in a crisis—panicked when his own life was endangered as he had never done when placing someone else's life in peril. Only the actions of that dim-witted college-boy archaeologist had made him move at all (much as he hated to admit it). Marquette realised grimly that he needed to think through his behavior again, more thoroughly, at the earliest opportunity. It was his belief that the more he knew about himself the more he could use that knowledge to control others. Until that night in Chad the plan had worked well, giving him a respected position among his peers (such as they were) and uncountable wealth.

But when he had tried to jump across that pit it was not to head towards safety but to escape the danger behind him. Fruitless course of action. Then there had been the exquisite agony blossoming in his side and light building in his head, and that strange sensation of moving forward and backwards at the same time. He did not fear death but wished only to avoid pain; so he was grateful for the unconsciousness that followed, believing it to be death.

Marquette had never burdened himself with beliefs in an afterlife; therefore his surprise at regaining consciousness was considerable. He had materialized below street level, in the ruins of an ancient hospital lying beneath present-day Shoorn; the place was being studied by priests who had been investigating some sort of healing or regeneration device. The spear had been removed from his side and the wound repaired by the machine before too much blood had been lost. Or maybe the machine had replaced his lost blood, too. Either way, he had been carried to the priests' "Temple of Healing" in their holy building, the Lod Zu, before he again lost consciousness. He had even been taught the local language via the Imprinter before he awakened.

All this was done in greatest secrecy, for the priests realized that here was the answer to all their prayers. Most of the priests really thought him to be from "Heaven", he thought, in spite of his black hair; and that had since been taken care of with an organic bleach that was impossible to trace once it had been washed out.

Actually, Kiri would have had a Son of God whether Marquette had shown up or not. The High Priest had planned it for years, having finally decided that if their God were going to send a real One, He would have done so by now. The biggest problem had been the natural curiosity of the Kiri people. Some would have insisted on testing the Messiah—even now, plans were being made for a "Meet the Press"-type TV confrontation—and an albino person would have been almost as easy to spot as would have been makeup. Marquette's arrival could not have been more fortuitous.

Presently the service ended and the worshippers departed. One was a most attractive woman; Marquette called her to him and found out her name before she left. As soon as he had gotten into a routine he thought it would be nice to have her come and worship him in person...and in private.

The chapel empty, Marquette rose and wandered towards the High Priest's offices. He had to be careful with this man; Marquette sensed that he was using him to gain his own ends and wanted him to think he was getting away with it until the last moment. Marquette had become extremely powerful on Earth; he didn't see why he couldn't become supremely powerful on Kiri...once the High Priest was out of the way.

Pausing along the passageway to the High Priest's rooms, Marquette stood by a balcony overlooking the city. The Lod Zu was the tallest building in Shoorn and the view was fantastic. He had arrived at the bottom, where now he couldn't even see, even below the lowest streets, and now he was at the top...and in only a day. That wasn't bad, not at all.

Down in those lower levels, he understood, lived rabble so ignorant they were unable even to feed themselves, or live decent lives. He had overheard the High Priest discussing a plan to kill them all and use the lower levels for a park. Marquette had seen people starving, sleeping in the streets of New Delhi, and he thought the plan was a good one. He decided he would like it on Kiri.

The apartment of the High Priest was decorated in plush shades of purple, considered by the Kiri people to be an even more spiritual color than blue. Marquette entered without knocking and referred to the High Priest by his first name, a deliberate informality to which he felt he was entitled, as Son of God.

"Hello, Blessed." The name was inherited and the High Priest wore it badly; he had been standing on a stool reaching for something on a high shelf when Marquette entered and nearly killed himself jumping to the floor and dropping to his hands and knees. Marquette was pleased with himself for not being even a little embarrassed. He waited a few seconds, then told the robed man to rise. He paused then, unsure of his next course. He knew that Blessed's adoration was affected, since Blessed himself had suggested it. But Marquette didn't mind a bit; he wanted to begin early to build and maintain himself as boss. But Blessed was the crafty, knife-'em-in-the-back sort; it suited him also to treat Marquette with deference. It was a game they had to play, and play out to the end...and Marquette was determined to come out the winner.

"I understand you'll be clearing out the lower levels soon," he said nonchalantly, not even looking at Blessed's momentary gape. The High Priest had not been aware that anyone knew about his secret project, and Marquette saw no harm in inducing a little real awe.

"Er, yes," Blessed replied after his momentary surprise. "The surface levels aren't used for anything important, and we think it will make a nice park."

"May I suggest an efficient way to do it? Bombs placed in the ocean near Shoorn and set off at the proper intervals would create a series of tidal waves that would wash it clean and leave a layer of sediment besides, the better to plant your gardens." Marquette had overheard all of this, but Blessed didn't know that.

The High Priest's voice sunk to a whisper. "Lord," he stammered, "more and more, I wonder if—well, if you aren't the One of whom the prophecies speak..."

Marquette simply smiled. He was already Son of God; at this rate he might soon be promoted to God the Father. Well, wait and see...

Bradley and Dawn had returned to the city in silence; now they sat cross-legged on her terrace. Jewel had been waiting for them; now she spoke in an effort to cheer them up.

"Well, now—! Let's not look so gloomy. I mean, the idea of saving the world is a nice one, but..."

Dawn spoke suddenly. "I just don't believe that the Son of God has arrived at all, any more than I believed that Bradley was really he. He's got to be a fake. I wouldn't trust those priests for as long as I can hold my breath."

"Dawn—Jewel—" Bradley began. "I was with another man when I fell into that pit. He was physically close to me—very close. I didn't see him when I appeared in that alley, so I assumed that he had been left behind. But could he have arrived at a different place or time than I did?"

Jewel was staring at Bradley with her sharp, black eyes. "How can I say? We don't know the mechanism of your transference. But if he had been found immediately by the priests, and they began coaching him in our religious beliefs...no, too many coincidences. It doesn't make a good theory."

Bradley was excited now. The thought entered his head that he had been looking forward to playing god, but he ignored it. "Jewel—I'll bet anything that your priests' savior is a fake. Why don't you teach me your beliefs, too, like Dawn suggested this afternoon? I'll challenge this other guy. If nothing else, it may create a delay that could save your people in the lower city."

"They'd laugh you out of the Church," was Dawn's reply. "No matter how much we taught you, the imposter, assuming you and he are of equal intelligence, would always be a jump ahead of you in religious training. Besides, he has priests teaching him—we're just laypersons. And I don't know what your Earth religion is like, but ours is pretty complicated. Priests study for years and only learn a portion of it."

That seemed to be the last word and they again sat in silence. Bradley's legs hurt. He wasn't used to sitting cross-legged for long periods of time. Dawn seemed lost in thought. She was undoubtedly mourning the poverty-stricken people she had devoted so much of her time and love to. Bradley couldn't guess what was in Jewel's mind. Bradley thought she was a very emotional person for someone who was supposed to be a physicist. How long were they going to sit there? What was to become of him? On a world whose people were all one color, was he doomed to be always a freak, the "guy who looks like God"?

If only there were some way for him to expose the son of god for the faker Bradley was certain he was. If only he could become a hero, at least in Dawn's eyes. If Dawn were to admire him, perhaps he could admire himself...

He thought about Dawn. He admired her. What an acting talent! On Earth she could easily become a Hollywood star. He remembered her performance at the hospital, before he had learned to speak her language. Before he had learned...

"Dawn!" he shouted, shocking the woman and her mother out of their reveries. "Jewel-like! How does the, uh, 'Imprinter' work?"

"It's connected to the central computer in the Lod Zu, normally to a program that supplies the images necessary to develop talent in various technical fields. Only recently was it discovered that it could be used to imprint concrete knowledge, such as language. Since then, they've been using it also to treat amnesia victims, such as Dawn told them you were."

"Then why can't I use it to learn all about your religion? If it's a state religion there must be a program already extant about it."

"Bradley," explained Dawn, "the human mind can only take in so much information at a time. Amnesiacs can be taught to speak with the Imprinter because their heads are empty to start with. Technical programs are only images. But the mass of information you're talking about—it could blow your mind apart."

Bradley was not about to give up easily. He had not been a real amnesiac, yet an entire language had fit in his skull with no pain. "I don't know about you people, but doctors on Earth have determined that we use only about ten percent of our brains. If the information were to be imprinted on unused portions of the brain (I don't know how the Imprinter works but it must be something like that) I'll bet I could retain it—at least, long enough to get a foot into that Church of the Highest Heavens."

Jewel-like spoke patiently. "Even if what you say, you could do, it would be much too risky, too dangerous. All Imprinters on Kiri are in Temples of Healing which are run—I might say, overrun—by the priests. Their use is strictly controlled. The computer is run by the priests. I don't even know if there is a comprehensive treatise on religion in its memory banks, although there probably is. But you would also need an Imprinter program to transfer it. We would have to override all sorts of programs and safeguards...we would have to construct an Imprinter-type inducer here, which would be illegal...and send the computer program here over the telephone lines..." Jewel had begun to look as though the scheme were not as impossible as she had thought. "We would need an electronics expert to divert the program here..."

"Is there such a person? Who would do it, I mean?"

There was a silence as Dawn and her mother exchanged glances. Then, from Dawn: "Yes, there is—and she is in the underground. Bradley, have you ever arranged anything like this before? Could you do it again?"

"Yes," answered the Earthman to the second question, conveniently ignoring the first. "If you can name some people who have certain special skills and are available, I'm sure we can get to that computer. There is no vault that can't be cracked by someone with the brains to do it," he added grandly, being carried away by the daring of it all.

"You're right about the unused 90% of the brain," the elder Shoornan said. "I've read something similar. I can build the Imprinter inductor here; and it shouldn't affect your normal personality. But," she finished, "we still would have to divert the program to the apartment here, where I have the circuits installed in the priests' spying equipment to insure privacy."

"Get me the plans of that building, the Lod Zu, and invite the people we need here. Keep the group small and trustworthy."

"We'll do it, Bradley," Dawn said...and the look in her eyes as she said it would have made anything worth the effort.

Bradley looked at the six others in the room and felt their eyes on him. Somehow the scene was ludicrous, reminding him of a TV show on Earth. The only thing missing was a self-destruct tape recorder.

Dawn had already told these people about him, he knew. He was wearing his red makeup but they were all staring at him curiously, trying to find something alien about him, like an eye on his forehead or an extra finger on each hand. There was, of course, no such difference and Bradley hoped that he would be accepted as human, in time. He didn't want to live out his life as an alien "freak".

"These people are all of Shoorn," Dawn was saying preparatory to introducing the four strangers. It wasn't necessary. Bradley and Dawn had spent the entire evening previous to poring over their pictures and qualifications for the job ahead. "This is Thick Neck." Neck was in his late twenties, dark of skin and black of hair like all the Kiri people. Muscles showed through his shirt sleeves; he had been chosen purely for his physical strength—he was expected to knock down a stone wall.

He sat next to a small woman who was introduced as "Dot"; and the name certainly fit her. Dot had the tiniest hands Bradley had ever seen. She used them expressively while she talked but Bradley knew that they had another use: she was Shoorn's foremost micro-electronics expert and had personally designed and built a system for computer memory storage that was far in advance of any Earth devices about which Bradley had heard.

The last two strangers were Fingers and Randy. (Bradley was puzzled at first at hearing a name translate as an English one; but then he recalled the old English meaning of the word. He did not pursue the matter further.) They were brothers and, at the moment, looked like twins; however, Bradley knew that it was an illusion. They were both makeup and mimicry experts, and, according to Dawn, could imitate anyone.

Jewel-like and Dawn completed his "crew", and Bradley sat down to face them. Although Bradley was supposed to be in charge, Dawn apparently felt that it would be better for her to do the talking. Well, perhaps it was.

They sat facing the wall behind which Dawn's television set was hidden. She lightly tapped a button on the desk near her and the wooden panels slid aside. At the touch of another button, a building appeared on the screen. "This," said Dawn for Bradley's benefit, "is a picture of the Lod Zu, as you know. It is the tower used by the priests for their offices, the Temple of Healing, the computer banks, and so on. At the very top is the Church of the Highest Heavens. At the bottom, even below street level, are the giant computers and memory storage units. These control the tower functions and even many utilities that service Shoorn..."

She continued, outlining the plan that she and Bradley and Jewel had conceived. It was not a particularly elaborate plan, but it would mean death to all concerned if they were caught.

Bradley wondered what it was that motivated the others to risk their lives like this. He had never really understood the intensity of feeling with which they spoke of Shoorn's poor, or even the hatred they felt for Kiri's priesthood. Kiri's theocracy didn't really seem any worse than the various political systems Bradley had seen on Earth. The poor were downtrodden everywhere. Bradley could even get a sense of security out of knowing that things were so similar on Kiri and on Earth.

Bradley had never really been poor, or even lower middle class. His father had always complained about not having enough money, especially when he or his mother wanted some item that could not be classified as an essential; but he could look back and see that they had never, after all, gone hungry. If his father had ever been short of money it was because any extra he ever had went into fishing equipment. They owned tackle, a boat, a camper. These expenditures were rationalised by the thought that the entire family could use them, which was true; but, in fact, no one in the family particularly wanted to go on these fishing trips except his father...and the joke was, that after spending all that money, he had never caught fish number one. Not, that is, until that last trip. Bradley had been in the middle of a college term and couldn't go. When the bodies of his parents had been dragged ashore, a trout was still hooked to his father's line; and his father clung as tightly to the pole in death as he had in life.

His father had been very strict; he was not above striking his son when displeased. Bradley's family had been a very religious one, attending Church every Sunday and belonging to nearly every organization attached to their parish. Bradley could not see at the time the incongruity of his father's worshipping a God of Love and then beating His precepts into his son. But it had affected him: even while retaining a high set of values and a moral integrity that seemed foolish to his classmates, Bradley had fallen away from his church and had not even felt a desire to replace it with anything else.

The death of his parents had included an insurance policy of enough substance to finish his college and pay for the researches Bradley had made concerning Khufu's treasure. He had decided to "go for broke", risking all his money on this first discovery. If it worked out, his fortune would have been made; and, if it didn't...well, there was always teaching.

But then, there was Marquette. There were always Marquettes...unforeseen obstacles that could have been foreseen if only Bradley had bothered to try and look. Well, this time he had looked, and been assisted by two others. This time, a plan of his would succeed.

Dawn was describing the entrance to the main computer room, the one they were going to make. They would travel through some of the ruins of Old Shoorn, remnants still existing from before the last nuclear war, several thousands of years ago. The thought set Bradley on fire. Using the ruins as an entrance had been Bradley's idea. According to Dawn, archaeology was an unknown science here; her people feared the things of the past which had nearly destroyed them.

Bradley hoped that all of this would work out, desperately. Even though it was Dawn outlining the plan to his new associates, it was still basically Bradley's idea...the second expedition he had ever made. The first had been the trip to Chad and he had screwed that up (although he had found the treasure, which was the main thing he had set out to do). If he wasn't successful in this, however, it would mean his death and that of his friends.

What he didn't know was that the unforeseen was preparing to attack again: even now, someone in the room was planning to betray them.