A Million Little Pieces Of My Mind

Bradley was somewhat surprised at the little resistance he met when entering the Lod Zu. Apparently most of the priests had not seen Marquette closely enough, or Bradley's red hair and white skin was all they saw. But they all dropped to their knees at sight of him and he was able to race, unmolested, to the place where his computer-gifted knowledge told him the TV studios were. Knowing the locations of the various doors, he was able to select the most effective.

In the studio the cameras were focused on a middle-aged woman in the audience. "Tshunai," she said, "Son of God, Lord of the Day, there is a question that has troubled scholars for centuries; perhaps you can now, in your wisdom, end the dispute. Just how many angels can fit on the end of a pin?"

The director cut to a shot of Marquette, but the Son of God never answered the question. He was staring, ashen-faced and slack-jawed, at something to his left. The cameraman instinctively followed his gaze and thus all of Shoorn was able to see another white-skinned, blond-haired being standing in the wings.

"He can't answer that question," the being stated, "because he's not the Son of God!"

There was an uproar from the crowd and several of Marquette's bodyguards moved towards Bradley but stopped when they saw the raygun he had thought to bring. It was aimed directly at Marquette's head.

"You lying bastard, Marquette. There's nothing you won't do, is there?" said Bradley, forgetting that only a few hours before he, too, had been preparing to masquerade as the Son of God. He looked directly at the camera. "This man is not from Heaven. Nor am I. We both come from another planet, a world where many people have light skin and golden hair. We came here by accident. Your priests found this man and decided to call him your Tshunai. But he's not!"

Suddenly Marquette spoke up. He was sweating profusely but he was certain that the college-boy archaeologist wouldn't shoot—if he even knew how. "He's lying!" the man shouted. "He's really the Evil One! He has disguised his black hair, but I would recognise him anywhere—many are the battles we have fought."

Marquette had spoken just the words Bradley hoped he would. By bringing up the dark-haired Satan of Kirian mythology he had given Bradley the opening he needed. He approached the healing machine and began turning its dials. The priests had recorded operating procedures in the main computer when they had first discovered the thing; now Bradley knew how to work it.

"You all saw this machine, supposedly from Heaven, heal a crippled man by regenerating his damaged body cells." The raygun never wavered from its mark on Marquette's head, and Bradley saw on a TV monitor, through the corner of his eye, that the director had keyed in a split screen so the audience could see both Bradley and Marquette at the same time. The archaeologist finished the adjustments and walked over to Marquette. The healing machine was projecting its green ray at the floor. "Technician!" Bradley ordered. "Adjust that beam so that it points to us. No, not you!" he cried as Blessed leapt to his feet. "I want the cameraman to do it."

The projector was stiff after its millennial rest; slowly the green circle on the floor became an oval as it crawled towards Bradley and Marquette. Then in a jump it was on them, their faces strangely lit by the jade light. On Bradley there was no other change.

But Marquette's hair returned to its normal brunette.

Marquette must have guessed what would happen, for he seemed prepared. Before anyone could stop him he had leaped over the desk and run into the audience where he knew no one would dare shoot. He was out of the studio before the confused people could mill into the aisles; by the time Bradley got into the seating section they were all over the place. He pushed and yelled and finally made it to the relative quiet of the halls. Marquette had a head start but Bradley knew every hall and room in the building. The former Son of God couldn't keep away from him for long. It was Bradley's guess that Marquette would be heading for the secret room in the foundations of the tower, above the computer complex.

Marquette couldn't hide from him forever. And when Bradley found him...

Dawn's amazement at her betrayal by her mother had not abated, even now that they were all tied up in the ruins of old Shoorn. They sat there, on the cold stone floor: Dawn, Jewel-like, Dot, Thick Neck, Fingers, Randy, and old Porkstooth.

"At least let me explain," the old woman begged when the police had left them, supposedly secure.

Dawn just sniffed but Jewel-like continued.

"After you left the Lod Zu I got a telephone call from Randy. He had escaped the guards who captured you by waiting until the elevator cab he was riding on top of slowed down and he could leap through an opening to the shaft for the counterweight."

"I have the bruises to prove it, too," Randy interrupted.

Jewel-like continued. "Randy, disguised as a temple guard, discovered that Blessed intended to flood the lower city much sooner than we had expected. How much sooner, he didn't know. But on his way to report to me, he accidentally stumbled on some diagrams of the Pyramid of Isis printed out by the computer. Dawn, the priests have been holding out on us. The Pyramid is hollow!

"So I asked myself, why would Tshunai have such an interest in the Pyramid? and then I realized: there must be evidence from our ancestors proving my theory—and that proof would also show that Tshunai was a false God—so he intended to destroy the Pyramid!"

"You fool—I intend to break into the Pyramid of Isis, all right—but not for the reason you think!"

Everyone gasped at the new voice: it belonged to Marquette, dark-haired but still in his Holy Robes.

"I was after the weapons I know are hidden there, and the element to power them and the weapons down here, too. I still intend to accomplish that." He stared at them defiantly.

"But it won't work, Tshunai. You see, I knew about your plan to overload Bradley's brain with the entire contents of the computer, too. That also backfired, as you shall see.

"Dawn, what I couldn't say before was that I didn't betray you. I had to get everyone together, including Tshunai, who is potentially the most dangerous man on Kiri."

"You couldn't know I'd find you here."

The old woman sighed. "Of course I could. You're here, aren't you? I knew Bradley would go after you when he awoke, and that, if you escaped, you would need a hostage. If you had gotten any information at all from the spy in Dawn's cell you would have known that she would be perfect.

"So I deliberately had us all captured, knowing that you would locate us by triangulating our position from the signal broadcast by the spy's miniature radio transmitter."

Suddenly, so suddenly that Marquette was nearly knocked over, the ground rocked in a tremendous earthquake. Rocks were dislodged from the ceiling of the underground city and cracks appeared in its floor.

There was a stunned silence after the final rumble had died away, which was broken by Dawn: "It's started!" she whispered. "That was the first bomb, going off. The tidal wave from it will reach here in minutes!"

Screams came from the direction of Porkstooth's cellar, and in moments a stream of people dressed in the rags of Lower Shoorn ran past, led by Porkstooth's wife. They reached the opening into the computer bays of the Lod Zu just as Bradley Hunter stepped out.

Marquette aimed and fired his raygun just as the second tremor hit. The blast missed Bradley but put a hole through Porkstooth's wife, continued on to explode a stone in the wall and brought it down, irrevocably blocking the entrance. Porkstooth cried out as his wife collapsed on the ground; with a superhuman burst of strength he broke free of the ropes tying his wrists together and caught Marquette in a bear hug. Dawn threw herself back, kicking up her feet to knock the raygun out of Marquette's hand; when he realized that he was weaponless he broke away from Porkstooth and ran down the street.

By this time Bradley had reached them; he considered chasing Marquette but knew that he had to untie his friends first. As soon as the ropes had been removed from Porkstooth's legs, the elderly shopkeeper raced to the body of his wife. The people she had been leading stood around, confused. Jewel-like motioned to them, trying to get the circulation back in her legs at the same time. "Follow me!" she cried. "There is another route to Upper Shoorn nearby. I will show you!" Meekly the people obeyed.

"Bradley," asked Dawn, "how much time do we have?"

"About five minutes to get out of here. Ten to escape Lower Shoorn. Better get to an escape route."

"What about you?"

Bradley's jaw was set. "I'm going to get Marquette if I never do another thing." Then he was away, running.

Dawn motioned to her remaining companions. "Go follow Mother—I'll come after you in a moment." She dashed away towards Porkstooth, still bent over the body of his wife.

Thick Neck put up his hand. "Wait," he said. "We go nowhere until I find out who the spy was."

"Are you crazy?" Dot protested. "We haven't time! We'll drown!"

"We go nowhere till I know." There was a silence until he added, "It would be simple matter for me to search each of you until I find radio transmitter..."

"Oh, for Gods' sakes," spat little Dot. "It was me! You animals, for the sake of a few peasants you would tear down the whole tradition that has made Shoorn what it is—"

She tried to scream when Thick Neck's hammy fingers fastened themselves around her throat, but couldn't. Both Fingers and Randy tried to pull him off her but he shook them away effortlessly. "Stop it, Thick Neck!" cried Randy, "she's your wife!" But there was no response. Fingers picked up Marquette's fallen raygun and fired it directly at the giant; the blast put a hole through his middle, yet still he didn't let go. Dot's face had turned purple and her eyes were bulging as she clawed uselessly at the hands that had never brought her anything but pain, yet she had loved. Fingers blasted off Thick Neck's head—and still he didn't let go. Both bodies sunk to the floor, one with a death-grip on the other that would last through eternity.

"Let's get out of here," Fingers said shakily to his brother. Then he paused, and threw up.

Dawn entreated Porkstooth one last time. "You must leave now, Porkstooth," she begged. "Your wife is dead, and the water will be here soon." Already it was pouring across the floor; she could hear it running down the various drains and holes of lower Shoorn into the ancient ruins.

"Leave me," the old man said simply. "My wife was a brave woman; she deserves company in her death."

"But, Porkstooth, what about your children?"

"They are of age. It is fitting that they face and earn their new lives on their own, just as it is fitting that my old life end with my death. Go."

Tears streaming down her face, Dawn did as she was told. Then she passed the bodies of Dot and Thick Neck, and sobbed. Four people dead, and the flood was not yet begun!

Outside, Bradley had finally found Marquette; but what he had intended to be a final revenge was instead becoming a ludicrous rescue.

A half-mile from Porkstooth's old shop, the archaeologist had spotted his former companion still running from him. He might have escaped if the second tidal wave had not hit. It rose the water level to six feet above the pavement. Bradley had climbed to safety on an overhang, but Marquette was still floundering in the water—and begging for his help.