Orson Card - Maps in a Mirror - The Short Fiction of Orson Scott Card

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed when nothing happens.”

“I won’t be disappointed, Mommy.” No. He’ll fix me right up.

And then the nice lady leaned over and asked, “You here to be healed?”

Billy only nodded, recognizing her as Bucky Fay’s helper lady who always said “Oh, my sweet Lord Jesus you’re so kind” when people got healed, said it in a way that made your spine tingle. She was wearing a lot of makeup. Billy could see she had a moustache with makeup really packed onto it. He wondered if she was really secretly a man as she wheeled him up to the front. But why would a man wear a dress? He was wondering about that as she got him in place, lined up with the other wheelchair people on the front row.

A man came along and knelt down in front of him. Billy got ready to pray, but the man just talked normal, so Billy opened his eyes. “Now this one’s going on TV,” the man said, “and for the TV show we need you to be real careful, son. Don’t say anything unless Bucky asks you a direct question, and then you just tell him real quick. Like when he asks you how come you got in a wheelchair, what’ll you tell him?”

“I’ll say—I’ll say—”

“Now don’t go freezing up on him, or it’ll look real bad. This is on TV, remember. Now you just tell me how come you got in a wheelchair.”

“So I could get healed by the power of Jesus.”

The man looked at him a moment, and then he said, “Sure. I guess you’ll do just fine. Now when it’s all over, and you’re healed, I’ll be right there, holding you by the arm. Now don’t say Thank the Lord right off. You wait till I squeeze your arm, and then you say it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“For the TV, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be nervous.”

“I won’t.”

The man went away but he was back in just a second looking worried. “You can feel things in your arms, can’t you?”

Billy lifted his arms and waved them up and down. “My arms are just fine.” The man nodded and went away again.

There was nothing to do but watch, then, and Billy watched, but he didn’t see much. On the TV, all you could see was Bucky Fay, but here the camera guys kept getting in front of him, and people were going back and forth all during the praising time and the support this ministry time so Billy could hardly keep track of what was going on. Till the man who talked to him came over to him again, and this time a younger guy was with him, and they lifted Billy out of his chair and carried him over toward where the lights were so bright, and the cameras were turned toward him, and Bucky Fay was saying, “And now who is first, thanks be to the Lord? Are you that righteous young man who the devil has cursed to be a homophiliac? Come here, boy! God’s going to give you a blood transfusion from the hemoglobin of the Holy Spirit!”

Billy didn’t know what to do. If he said anything before Bucky Fay asked him a question, the man would be mad, but what good would it do if Bucky Fay ordered up the wrong miracle? But then he saw how the man who had talked to him turned his face away from the camera and mouthed, “Paralyzed,” and Bucky Fay caught it and went right on, saying “Do you think the Saviour is worried? Paralyzed you are, too, completely helpless, and yet when the miracle comes into your body, do you think the Holy Spirit needs the doctor’s diagnosis? No, praise the Lord, the Holy Spirit goes all through you, hunting down every place where the devil has hurt you, where the devil that great serpent has poisoned you, where the devil that mighty dragon has thought he could destroy you—boy, are you saved?”

It was a direct question. “Uh huh.”

“Has the Lord come to you in the waters of baptism and washed away your sins and made you clean?”

Billy wasn’t sure what that all meant, but after a second the man squeezed his arm, and so Billy said, “Thank the Lord.”

“What the baptism did to the outside of your body, the miracle will do to the inside of your body. Do you believe that Jesus can heal you?”

Billy nodded.

“Oh, be not ashamed, little child. Speak so all the millions of our television friends can hear you. Can Jesus heal you?”

“Yes! I know he can!”

Bucky Fay smiled, and his face went holy; he spat on his hands, clapped twice, and then slapped Billy in the forehead, splashing spit all over his face. Just that very second the two men holding him sort of half-dropped him, and as he clutched forward with his hands he realized that all those times when people seemed to be overcome by the Holy Spirit, they were just getting dropped, but that was probably part of the miracle. They got him down on the floor and Bucky Fay went on talking about the Lord knowing the pure in heart, and then the two men picked him up and this time stood him on his legs. Billy couldn’t feel a thing, but he did know that he was standing. They were helping him balance, but his weight was on his legs, and the miracle had worked. He almost praised God right then, but he remembered in time, and waited.

“I bet you feel a little weak, don’t you,” said Bucky Fay.

Was that a direct question? Billy wasn’t sure, so he just nodded his head.

“When the Holy Spirit went through the Apostle Paul, didn’t he lie upon the ground? Already you are able to stand upon your legs, and after a good night’s sleep, when your body has strengthened itself after being inhabited by the Spirit of the Lord, you’ll be restored to your whole self, good as new!”

Then the man squeezed Billy’s arm. “Praise the Lord,” Billy said. But that was wrong—it was supposed to be thank the Lord, and so he said it even louder, “Thank the Lord.”

And now with the cameras on him, the two men holding him worked the real miracle, for they turned him and leaned him forward, and pulled him along back to the wheelchair. As they pulled him, they rocked him back and forth, and under him Billy could hear his shoes scuffing the ground, left, right, left, right, just as if he was walking. But he wasn’t walking. He couldn’t feel a thing. And then he knew. All those miracles, all those walking people—they had men beside them, leaning them left, leaning them right, making their legs fall forward, just like dolls, just like dummies, real dummies. And Billy cried. They got the camera real close to him then, to show the tears streaking down his face. The crowd applauded and praised.

“He’s new at walking,” Bucky Fay shouted into the microphone. “He isn’t used to so much exercise. Let that boy ride in his chair again until he has a chance to build up his strength. But praise the Lord! We know that the miracle is done, Jesus has given this boy his legs and healed his hemophobia, too!” As the woman wheeled him down the aisle, the people reached out to touch him, said kind and happy things to him, and he cried. His mother was crying for joy. She embraced him and said, “You walked,” and Billy cried harder. Out in the car he told her the truth. She looked off toward the brightly lit door of that flamboyant, that seductive tent, and she said, “God damn him to burn in hell forever.” But Billy was quite, quite sure that God would do no such thing.

Not that Billy doubted God. No, God had all power, God was a granter of prayers. God was even fair-minded, after his fashion. But Billy knew now that when God set himself to balance things in the world, he did it sneaky. He did it tricky. He did it ass-backward, so that anybody who wanted to could see his works in the world and still doubt God. After all, what good was faith if God went around leaving plain evidence of his goodness in the world? No, not God. His goodness would be kept a profound secret, Billy knew that. Just a secret God kept to himself.