Robert Heinlein - Revolt In 2100

At the Military Academy 1 simply saw no females, nor did I have much to confess in the way of evil thoughts. My human feelings were pretty much still in freeze, and my occasional uneasy dreams I regarded as temptations sent by Old Nick. But New Jerusalem is not West Point and the Angels were neither forbidden to marry nor were we forbidden proper and sedate association with women. True, most of my fellows did not ask permission to marry, as it would have meant transferring to one of the regular regiments and many of them cherished ambitions for the military priesthood-but it was not forbidden. Nor were the lay deaconesses who kept house around the Temple and the Palace forbidden to marry. But most of them were dowdy old creatures who reminded me of my aunts, hardly subjects for romantic thoughts. I used to chat with them occasionally around the corridors, no harm in that. Nor was I attracted especially by any of the few younger sisters-until I met Sister Judith. I had been on watch in this very spot more than a month earlier. It was the first time I had stood guard outside the Prophet's apartments and, while I was nervous when first posted, at that moment I had been no more than alert against the possibility of the warden-of-the-watch making his rounds. That night a light had shone brightly far down the inner corridor opposite my post and I had heard a sound of people moving; I had glanced at my wrist chrono-yes, that would be the Virgins ministering to the Prophet... - no business of mine. Each night at ten o'clock their watch changed-their 'guard mount' I called it, though I had never seen the ceremony and never would. All that I actually knew about it was that those coming on duty for the next twenty-four hours drew lots at that time for the privilege of personal attendance in the sacred presence of the Prophet Incarnate. I had listened briefly and had turned away. Perhaps a quarter of an hour later a slight form engulfed in a dark cloak had slipped past me to the parapet, there to stand and look at the stars. I had had my blaster out at once, then had returned it sheepishly, seeing that it was a deaconess. I had assumed that she was a lay deaconess; I swear that it did not occur to me that she might be a holy deaconess. There was no rule in my order book telling me to forbid them to come outside, but I had never heard of one doing so. I do not think that she had seen me before I spoke to her. 'Peace be unto you, sister.' She had jumped and suppressed a squeal, then had gathered her dignity to answer, "And to you, little brother.' It was then that I had seen on her forehead the Seal of Solomon, the mark of the personal family of the Prophet. 'Your pardon, Elder Sister. I did not see.' 'I am not annoyed.' It had seemed to me that she invited conversation. I knew that it was not proper for us to converse privately; her mortal being was dedicated to the Prophet just as her soul was the Lord's, but I was young and lonely-and she was young and very pretty. 'Do you attend the Holy One this night, Elder Sister?' She had shaken her head at that. 'No, the honor passed me by. My lot was not drawn.' 'It must be a great and wonderful privilege to serve him directly.' 'No doubt, though I cannot say of my own knowledge. My lot has never yet been drawn.' She had added impulsively, 'I'm a little nervous about it. You see, I haven't been here long.' Even though she .was my senior in rank, her display of feminine weakness had touched me. 'I am sure that you will deport yourself with credit.' 'Thank you.' We had gone on chatting. She had been in New Jerusalem, it developed, even less time than had I. She had been reared on a farm in upper New York State and there she had been sealed to the Prophet at the Albany Seminary. In turn I had told her that 1 had been born in the middle west, not fifty miles from the Well of Truth, where the First Prophet was incarnated. I then told her that my name was John Lyle and she had answered that she was called Sister Judith. I had forgotten all about the warden-of-the-watch and his pesky rounds and was ready to chat all night, when my chrono had chimed the quarter hour. 'Oh, dear!' Sister Judith had exclaimed. 'I should have gone straight back to my cell.' She had started to hurry away, then had checked herself. 'You wouldn't tell on me, John Lyle?' 'Me? Oh, never!' I had continued to think about her the rest of the watch. When the warden did make rounds I was a shade less than alert. A mighty little on which to found a course of folly, eh? A single drink is a great amount to a teetotaler; I was not able to get Sister Judith out of my mind. In the month that followed I saw her half a dozen times. Once I passed her on an escalator; she was going down as I was going up. We did not even speak, but she had recognized me and smiled. I rode that escalator all night that night in my dreams, hut I could never get off and speak to her. The other encounters were just as trivial. Another time I heard her voice call out to me quietly, 'Hello, John Lyle,' and I turned just in time to see a hooded figure go past my elbow through a door. Once I watched her feeding the swans in the moat; I did not dare approach her but I think that she saw me. The Temple Herald printed the duty lists of both my service and hers. I was standing a watch in five; the Virgins drew lots once a week. So it was just over a month later that our watches again matched. I saw her name-and vowed that I would win the guard mount that evening and again be posted at the post of honor before the Prophet's own apartments. I had no reason to think that Judith would seek me out on the rampart-but I was sure in my heart that she would. Never at West Point had I ever expended more spit-and-polish; I could have used my buckler for a shaving mirror. But here it was nearly half past ten and no sign of Judith, although I had heard the Virgins gather down the corridor promptly at ten. All I had to show for my efforts was the poor privilege of standing watch at the coldest post in the Palace. Probably, I thought glumly, she comes out to flirt with the guardsmen on watch every time she has a chance. I recalled bitterly that all women were vessels of iniquity and had always been so since the Fall of Man. Who was I to think that she had singled me out for special friendship? She had probably considered the night too cold to bother. I heard a footstep and my heart leaped with joy. But it was only the warden making his rounds. I brought my pistol to the ready and challenged him; his voice came back, 'Watchman, what of the night?' I answered mechanically, 'Peace on Earth,' and added, 'It is cold, Elder Brother.' 'Autumn in the air,' he agreed. 'Chilly even in the Temple.' He passed on by with his pistol and his bandolier of paralysis bombs slapping his armor to his steps. He was a nice old duffer and usually stopped for a few friendly words; tonight he was probably eager to get back to the warmth of the guardroom. I went back to my sour thoughts. 'Good evening, John Lyle.' I almost jumped out of my boots. Standing in the darkness just inside the archway was Sister Judith. I managed to splutter, 'Good evening, Sister Judith,' as she moved toward me. 'Ssh!' she cautioned me. 'Someone might hear us. John Lyle-it finally happened. My lot was drawn!' I said, 'Huh?' then added lamely, 'Felicitations, Elder Sister. May God make his face to shine on your holy service.' 'Yes, yes, thanks,' she answered quickly, 'but John ... I had intended to steal a few moments to chat with you. Now I can't-I must be at the robing room for indoctrination and prayer almost at once. I must run.' 'You'd better hurry,' I agreed. I was disappointed that she could not stay, happy for her that she was honored, and exultant that she had not forgotten me. 'God go with you.' 'But I just had to tell you that I had been chosen.' Her eyes were shining with what I took to be holy joy; her next words startled me. 'I'm scared, John Lyle.Читать дальше