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"Yes, you are, but you are wrong, and in that, too, you are wrong, for you would hear your anthems of praise sung over and over without end and forever, and Lord! These souls could come to you and sing those anthems. '
"I don't need the anthems, Memnoch,' He said.
"Then why do we sing?'
"You of all my angels are the only one who accuses me! Who does not trust in me. Why, these souls you brought from Sheol trust in me as you do not! That was your standard for selecting them! That they trusted in the Wisdom of God. '
"I couldn't be silenced:
"I knew something when I was flesh and blood, Lord, which upheld all that I had suspected before, and which confirms all I have seen since. What can I do, Lord, tell you lies? Speak things with my tongue that are flat-out falsehoods? Lord, in humankind you have made something that even you do not fully comprehend! There can be no other explanation, for if there is, then there is no Nature and there are no Laws. '
"Get out of my sight, Memnoch. Go down to Earth and get away from me and interfere with Nothing, do you hear?'
"Put it to the test, Lord. Become flesh and blood as I did. You who can do anything, sheath yourself in flesh¡ª' "Silence, Memnoch. '
"Or if you do not dare to do that, if it is unworthy of the Creator to understand in every cell his Creation, then silence all the anthems of Angels and Men! Silence them, since you say you do not need them, and observe then what your Creation means to you!'
"I cast you out, Memnoch!' He declared, and in an instant all of Heaven had reappeared around me, the entire bene ha elohim and with it the millions of souls of the saved, and Michael and Raphael were standing before me, watching in horror as I was forced backwards right out of the gates and into the whirlwind.
"You are merciless to your Creations, my Lord!' I roared as
loud as I could over the din of distressful singing. 'Those men and women made in your own image are right to despise you, for nine-tenths of them would be better off if they had never been born!' "
Memnoch stopped.
He made a little frown, just a tiny very perfectly symmetrical scowl for a moment, and then lowered his head as if listening to something. Then slowly he turned to me.
I held his gaze. "It's just what you would have done, isn't it?" he asked.
"God help me," I said, "I really don't know. "
The landscape was changing. As we looked at each other, the world around us was filled with new sounds. I realized there were humans in the vicinity, men with flocks of goats and sheep, and far off in the distance I could see the walls of a town, and above on a hill, yet another small settlement. Indeed, we were in a populated world now, ancient, but not that far from our own.
I knew these people couldn't see us, or hear us. I didn't have to be told.
Memnoch continued to stare at me, as if asking me something, and I didn't know what it was. The sun was beating down full on both of us. I realized my hands were moist with blood sweat and I reached up and wiped the sweat from my forehead, and looked at the blood on my hand. He was covered with a faint shimmer, but nothing more than that. He continued to stare at me.
"What happened!" I asked. "Why don't you tell me! What happened? Why don't you go on?"
"You know damned good and well what happened," he said. "Look down at your clothes now. They're robes, and better suited for the desert. I want you to come there, just over those hills . . . with me. "
He stood up, and I at once followed him. We were in the Holy Land, there was no question. We passed dozens upon dozens of small groups of people, fishermen near a small town on the edge of the sea, others tending sheep or goats, or driving small flocks towards nearby settlements or walled enclosures.
Everything looked distinctly familiar. Disturbingly familiar, quite beyond deja vu or intimations of having lived here before. Familiar as if hardwired into my brain. And I refer to everything now¡ªeven a naked man with crooked legs, hollering and raving, as he passed us, not seeing us, one hand bent on a stick of a cane.
Beneath the layers of grit that covered all, I was surrounded by forms and styles and manners of behavior I knew intimately¡ªfrom Scripture, from engraving, from embellished illustration, and from film enactment. This was¡ªin all its stripped-down, burning-hot glory¡ªa sacred as well as familiar terrain.
We could see people standing before caves in which they lived high on the hills. Here and there little groups sat in the shade beneath a copse, dozing, talking. A distant pulse came from the walled cities. The air was filled with sand. Sand blew into my nostrils and clung to my lips and my hair.
Memnoch had no wings. His robes were soiled and so were mine.
I think we wore linen; it was light and the air passed through it. Our robes were long and unimportant. Our skin, our forms, were unchanged.
The sky was vividly blue, and the sun glared down upon me as it might on any being. The sweat felt alternately good and unbearable.
And I thought, fleetingly, how at any other time I might wonder at the sun alone, the marvel of the sun denied to the Children of Night¡ªbut all this time I had not even thought of it, not once, because having seen the Light of God, the Sun had ceased to be that Light for me.
We walked up into the rocky hills, climbing steep paths, and crossing over outcroppings of rock and ragged tree, and finally there appeared below and before us a great patch of unwatered sand, burning and shifting slowly in comfortless wind.
