James Hogan - Entoverse

“Can you give some instances?” Hunt asked.

“Fundamental things-things that any six-year-old wouldn’t think twice about,” Garuth answered. “We take it for granted, for example, that objects remain unaltered by changes in location or orientation; that things measure the same in the evening as they do in the morning; that the same causes always produce the same results. Children grasp such fundamentals naturally. But the-what did you call them?”

“Ayatollahs,” Hunt said. He shrugged at Danchekker. “Sounds like a good name for them, to me.”

“They don’t seem to see anything natural about predictability at all,” Garuth went on. “They act as if it were mysterious. Machines baffle them.”

“They talk instead about magic and mysticism,” Shilohin said.

Garuth made a gesture of incomprehension. “They believe it,” he said. “As if that was how their perceptions of reality had been conditioned. Hence my question: We know who performed the conjuring tricks that spread such beliefs on Earth. But who did it to the Jevlenese?”

Danchekker stared at him. “I have no idea. Have you?”

Garuth waited for a moment, then nodded. “Possibly. We think it could have something to do with JEVEX. But we’re not sure exactly how.”

“JEVEX evolved under the same influences that plotted to overthrow Thurien and Earth,” Shilohin pointed out. “Conceivably the qualities of its creators were somehow embodied into its nature-and the ayatollahs are frequently violent and excitable. They are suspicious of everyone, and pathologically insecure, hence their obsessive urge to control others and impose their will-what else do these cults of theirs express? The insecurity also manifests itself as an insatiable lust for wealth, on a scale beyond the comprehension of normal people.”

“Hm, we’ve seen more than a few like that back on Earth,” Hunt remarked. He was thinking of a ring that had been broken up after the Pseudowar and its revelations. Maybe Earth held more undercover Jevlenese than had been realized.

“A completely circular argument,” Danchekker objected. “You begin by postulating JEVEX as the cause, then conclude by deducing Jevlenese origins as a consequence. A simple observation of the commonality of human nature to both situations would be far more to the point, would it not?”

“Maybe,” Hunt conceded.

Garuth was not so sure. “There is other evidence of a distinct, external cause at work: the suddenness with which the ayatollahs are affected. The condition doesn’t seem to be present from birth, or something that develops progressively through life. It appears suddenly, as if the victims were being possessed.”

“At a similar point in their lives?” Hunt queried.

“No. It can happen at any age.”

“There are practically no records of childhood cases, though,” Shilohin mentioned.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Hunt reflected for several seconds. “What kind of evidence is there for these ‘possessions’?” he asked finally. “Is it just anecdotal, or what?”

“It’s an acknowledged fact among the Jevlenese, occurring as far back as records go,” Garuth said. “Shilohin has conducted a study of their history.”

Shilohin took up the details. “A number of common themes reappear continually beneath the superficial differences of what the various cults preach. They go back a long way, and cut across boundaries of nation, race, creed, geographic area and historical age. One of them is this notion we’ve already mentioned of persons being suddenly ‘possessed,’ somehow. It’s always in the same kind of way: they usually switch to a new life-style; their value system and their conceptual world model change; and they lose rationality.”

“So it’s not as if they never had it,” Hunt said.

“Exactly. And it isn’t only we who see the difference. All the native Jevlenese languages have terms that set them apart as a class- usually translating as ‘Emerged’ or ‘Arisen,’ or something vaguely synonymous. They talk about having ‘escaped’ from an ‘inner world,’ or something recognizably similar.”

When Shilohin had finished, Danchekker twiddled the pen that Hunt had handed him between his fingers and stared down at his notes in silence for a while. Finally, he exhaled heavily and shook his head. “I still think you’re reading meaning where none exists,” he said. “Essentially the same concepts are also encountered widely on Earth. The most economic answer is that they are merely simplistic expressions of the hopes, fears, and doubts that underlie the workings of primitive mentalities anywhere. No unifying explanation of the kind you are seeking is called for.”

“ZORAC, what’s your evaluation?” Garuth asked.

“Logically, the professor is correct. But past experience says Vic’s hunches are the way to bet.”

“Then let me throw one more thing at you, Professor,” Garuth said. “The pattern doesn’t extend back to the earliest stages of the Jevlenese past. There was no hint of it in Lunarian history. And the descendants of the Lambian survivors brought from Minerva didn’t show it until long after they established themselves on Jevlen.”

Shilohin completed the point for him. “It was only after JEVEX had been up and running for some time that the first ayatollahs appeared, spreading notions of mysticism and magic. Before then, nothing of the kind had been heard of. In fact, that was where the Jevlenese got their idea for sabotaging Earth. That’s why we think that JEVEX was the culprit, somehow. And it could also explain why all of the cults, regardless of their superficial bickerings and hair-splittings, are united in calling for JEVEX to be restored.”

At that moment ZORAC came through again. “Excuse me, but I’ve got Del Cullen. He says it’s urgent.”

“Go ahead,” Garuth said.

Cullen’s face appeared on one of the screens by Garuth’s desk, looking tense. “Ayultha has been assassinated,” he announced without preliminaries.

Gasps of disbelief came from around the office. Garuth was stunned. “When? How?” he stammered.

“A few minutes ago, at the rally they were having in Chinzo today. We’re not exactly sure how. Look-this is what happened.”

Cullen’s face was replaced by a view of Ayultha treating a frenzied gathering to one of his harangues. He seemed to reach some kind of a crescendo, standing dramatically with his arms raised while the crowd thundered in unison. Then a figure scrambled up onto the edge of the platform, shouting something, then pointed an accusing finger-and Ayultha exploded. There was a burst of incandescence, and then all that remained where he had stood an instant before was a smoldering patch on the platform. Pandemonium broke out all around. A purple-spiral banner that had formed the backdrop was blazing, and some people at the front of the crowd seemed to have been burned.

“My God!” Danchekker whispered, staring numbly.

Hunt watched the screen, grim-faced. “They might be crazy, Chris. But we’re not dealing with any Hare Krishnas,” he muttered. “Whatever’s going on here, those guys are serious.”

Some inner inspiration had told Eubeleus, the Deliverer, that the time to act was now. One of the qualities that characterized greatness was the gift of judging tide and moment by an unsensed, intuitive process that dwelt deep below thought, and then delivered its verdict to consciousness fully formed and complete, like the solution to an elaborate, invisible piece of computation appearing suddenly on a screen.

With the removal of Ayultha, the Spiral’s entire organization was not only in disarray, but fragmenting. Already, its members were being racked with doubts, and warring factions claimed their shares of followers as rival worthies expounded different interpretations of what had taken place. Some dismissed the event as a spectacular piece of chicanery engineered by some hostile interest; at the opposite extreme, others had no doubt of its authenticity as a manifestation of powers operating from beyond the purview of everyday experience. If the Spiral’s archprelate and guide had been defenseless against such powers, then the most fundamental tenets of its doctrines were suspect.