Kate Wilhelm - Let the Fire Fall

“From our vantage point high over the mountain we can see most of the grounds. There, on the left of the picture is the main building, a huge colonial-type mansion, three stories high, snowy white and gleaming, and behind it are smaller guest houses. Through the trees, in the center of the picture, you can see the other buildings, hospital, and medical personnel quarters. There is a laboratory there also. Panning to the right now we see a man-made lake perched like a daub of blue paint against the ground lightly sprinkled with snow, surrounded by fir trees and low-growing pine trees. Then we see the campsites. The buildings are not visible….

“The deputy has reached the last leg of his trip up the mountain. He is now at the beginning of a sweeping driveway that winds about beautifully landscaped grounds and ends at the front entrance of the mansion. Still no one has appeared to challenge the deputy. The crowds are pushing hard against the cordon of soldiers who are trying to hold them back. Slowly, foot by foot they have pushed their way up the mountain also, and they are not far behind the deputy and his posse. Ah…. Ladies and gentlemen, the crowds have broken through! They are swarming over the grounds now….”

The picture dimmed momentarily and came back, but the voice was out. The people swarmed over everything in sight during the interlude. They were pressing into the great house, windows broken out, torches here and there flying through the air and the satisfying sudden flare of a building catching fire. The fires went out almost immediately. The mansion was fireproofed in the most thorough manner imaginable.

The announcer’s voice again: “We can’t see the deputy any longer. He is lost in that surge of people below, trying to make his way to the entrance of the house. His ground effect car has been overturned and presumably he is on foot now, as are his men…. Ah, there is his group, still far back. It doesn’t look like they will be able to get through…. Look, over there! To the right….” The camera swung wildly and the 3D image was the vision of a man reeling in a drunken daze. It settled again on a balcony on the third floor of the building. Two figures were there, both in white robes, both blond, both silent. Obie and Blake. The crowds went mad.

“Ladies and gentlemen, there must be fifty thousand people down there now, and more coming all the time. It’s a madhouse down there. I can’t see any of the armed forces, or the deputy, no one at all in authority. Obie Cox and his son are standing on the balcony, not moving. Why doesn’t he get out?” Pause. “They are throwing things at them…. There are some stun guns down there! And a rifle or two! Oh, my God! They are going to murder them!” The images of the milling people, stones flashing through the air, a fire in the distance—the hospital?—the engineers had adjusted the sound down so that the shrieks and screams and curses were muffled, and the pop now and then of a gun was too low to be ominous. The figures stood quietly. They began to rise slowly, and it was more as if everything else were sinking and they were still motionless. They were ten feet above the balcony before the crowds realized that they were ascending.

There was a scream from thousands of throats simultaneously, then absolute silence. The announcer: “It has to be a trick, of course. But what a trick! Higher and higher! They are fifty feet above the house now….” Sounds of rifle fire shattered the silence. One of the figures doubled over, was caught by the other, and together, they vanished into the woods. Static.

“I repeat, Blake Daniels Cox has been shot. We don’t know yet how badly he has been wounded. The people are silent now and the Army is getting through them, going into the woods to try to find a trace of Obie Cox and his son. We are circling the area but we can see nothing through the trees below us. They are down there somewhere. At the clearing there is a stunned silence now….”

Hours later they found Blake. He was lying on the ground, on a bed of pine needles, his eyes closed, his face composed in death, his hands across his chest. The front of his robe was crimson and brown with drying blood. Two doctors pronounced him dead.

The Church claimed him and took him to the temple, where he lay in state for three days, and on the third day Obie reappeared. He said nothing, but walked to the altar draped with black where he prayed before the casket.

Orders had been given out: no matter what happened the 3D cameras were to stay on, the proceedings were to be followed to the end. Later it was disputed on whose orders, but no matter, they had been given and the entire sequence was shown, although distorted in the memories of those who witnessed. One of the versions is as follows.

Obie prayed before the casket, his voice too low to catch the words, but his attitude that of sorrow and grief. Behind him the satin of the covering in the casket stirred and Blake sat up, then stood up and stepped out. There were screams and moans and fainting spells and even a heart attack down in the congregation and Obie whirled around to see why. He blanched and caught the dais to keep himself upright. Blake was laughing.

He didn’t go near the microphone, but his voice was everywhere, He must have been wired with a hidden mike. “This is another of Obie’s miracles! The miracle of a pill! Dead? Do nook dead? If I fly, is that a miracle of God, or is it the miracle of a new mechanical device? And if one is miraculous, why not the other? I can fly. So can you. I can produce water from rocks. So can you. I can make you heal yourselves. So can you. These are not miracles. These are the products of hard work, done by men, on Earth, for the benefit of other men. Miracles? The only miracle is that you have been duped. You have believed when you should have laughed. Obie Cox, God’s Voice? That is the joke, and you didn’t laugh. That is the only miracle.” He rose from the stage and hovered six feet above the coffin. “This is the climax of this act, I am to ascend into heaven, but not yet. Not today.” He pulled open his robe and put his hand on the belt that was under it. “Do I want to go higher, this depression will take me up. Lower, this one. Sideways, like this… ” He demonstrated as he spoke and there was only profound silence now as the people watched him. He landed easily once more, beside the shaking Obie. He draped his arm about Obie’s shoulder. “And this man can fly also, if he has an anti-gravity unit and the proper controls. As you can.”

His voice dropped dramatically then and he looked at Obie in wonder as he added, “You would let this man, this mortal man with thinning hair and feet that hurt and beard that is dyed regularly, this man with his exerciser and his girdle and his fondness for rich food, this man with his lusts and his fears pushing him, you would let this man define your god for you! That is the miracle!

“If you seek a god, seek him alone. That is the only way you can find one.

“If you seek miracles, look at the flowers that grow, at the rainbows that bridge the skies, at the ripening wheat in the field.

“If you seek an anti-gravity, go to the Barber Shops! They are for you, free, with no tithe expected in return. Go to the Barber Shops!” He patted Obie’s livid cheek and said sardonically, “Sorry, old man. The game’s over.” Then he rose into the air and, waving to the congregation, ascended through the skylight and vanished into the night sky.

All eyes turned again to Obie, who stood alone in the circle of the spotlight. He motioned to the engineer and the light went out. When it came back on, he was gone. He was never seen on Earth again.

Some say that he shaved his beard and simply vanished into the crowds that surged about the temple all night. Others say that Dee Dee and Billy were waiting for him and there ensued a three-way battle that, like the tigers racing about the tree, left only grease on the floor.