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slipped silently from the room after the last scene ended in a white flash of film leader.
    The kneeling figure carefully removed his fragile glasses to mop his eyes. His faith, pushed to the sidelines through years of administration, was restored. He remained on his knees, the pain moving up his legs to his back until the spasms drove him prostrate. He endured it as a penance.
    The projectionist remained outside the massive double doors, unsure. Once, he looked inside to the cassocked figure now lying prostrate on the marble, like a newly ordained priest, arms outstretched. A rosary the cardinal had worn largely as decoration for two decades was now moving slowly through his long, delicate fingers. An hour later, the cardinal moved the doors barely open, his slight frame slipping through. He paused and touched the projectionist on the arm, wordless acknowledging the man’s vigil. He moved down the long hall toward the Papal apartments.
    They spoke in comfortable Italian. “Your holiness, I believe what I have seen and heard is, is unexplainable, except as miraculous. Taken together with the voice, it is overwhelming in its impact.”
    “Yes, Lord Cardinal. Several of the nuncios have had a similar experience. I think it is time for me to know for myself. But all of this must be deeply confidential at this time. Our obligation is most solemn and weighs on us to be diligent but also to act with dispatch. Please bring me the film and recordings tonight.”
    The next morning, Pope Paul VI addressed thousands from the balcony above St Peter’s Square. He would ignore all the normal protocols for investigation of miracles, and bypass the Bishops Conference. He spoke now without prepared remarks. It echoed through the square.
    “I have seen with these eyes. I have seen with this heart. I have heard his voice. Those of you who also have seen and heard, know in your hearts it is real. Go now and pray, as will I.” He pronounced a benediction. Then he turned and stepped inside. The throngs in the square drifted away in silence.

Chapter 10
    An intrepid caller had asked the visitor about Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha, Kali, Krishna, Rama, Siva, Vishnu.
    “Think of all of these manifestations as essentially the same. They show your need to understand god in a cultural context. It is appropriate and it happens everywhere, across creation.”
    “Then why do we make war in the name of our particular god?”
    “It’s never the real reason. It’s a rationalization. An excuse for something else.”
    Eileen knelt on the damp ground of their tiny yard, feeling the moisture dampening the knees of her jeans. This was when she was at peace, in the midst of the turmoil that their lives had become. Fences, gates and security people now enclosed their home, all provided by the network.
    Margaret had become her only companion, besides Luke and the baby. Continuing at the hospital had been impossible. She had been besieged, like Luke, by the media and those seeking intervention with the visitor, on their behalf.
    “How’s everything between you two, you and Luke?”
    “Different. He’s under an incredible strain. He really leans on me now. It’s like this is the only place he can escape it. People just connect it all with him and it’s a burden that’s crushing him.” She thought of the last two days.
    “I just don’t think I can do it anymore, Ei. And I feel like a Judas for even considering something like this. But sometimes I feel like I just can’t walk into that studio one more time. That would end it, at least for me. It would be over and all this hysteria would wear itself out pretty soon.”
    “That’s your choice. You could stop it, at least for yourself.”
    “What I also get is that something else is coming. Some kind of a big change, maybe. I think he’s leading up to it. Or he’s just making me know it.”
    “So that’s why you’re staying with it?”
    “Yeah. I can’t run out now. I know it’s a big deal and that