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you will, has elected to manifest Himself to man in this challenging fashion. We do not want to ignore that challenge, and certainly we do not wish to risk crucifying Christ again! But we also cannot afford to embarrass ourselves by treating too seriously a phenomenon that may have completely mundane roots.”
    “God has completely mundane roots,” Brother Paul pointed out, with no negative intent.
    “But He also has completely divine branches. The one without the other—”
    “Yes, I appreciate the delicacy of the problem.”
    “If this manifestation should actually stem from God, we must recognize and answer the call,” the Reverend Mother said. “If it is a purely material thing, we would like to know exactly what it is, and how it works, and why religion is vulnerable to it. That surely will not be easy to do!” She paused. “Why am I so excited, Paul, yet so afraid? I have urged you not to go, yet at the same time—”
    Brother Paul smiled. “You are afraid I shall fail. Or that I will actually find God there. Either would be most discomfiting—for of course the God of Tarot is also the God of Earth. The God of Man.”
    “Yes,” she said uncertainly. “But after all our centuries of faith, can we really face the reality? God may not conform to our expectations, yet how could we reject Him? We must know Him! It frightens me! In short—”
    “In short,” Brother Paul concluded, “you want me to go to Hell—to see if God is there.”

∞
    Unknown
    Consciousness has been compared to a mirror in which the body contemplates its own activities. It would perhaps be a closer approximation to compare it to the kind of Hall of Mirrors where one mirror reflects one’s reflection in another mirror, and so on. We cannot get away from the infinite. It stares us in the face whether we look at atoms or stars, or at the becauses behind the becauses, stretching back through Eternity. Flat-Earth science has no more use for it than the flat-Earth theologicians had in the Dark Ages; but a true science of life must let infinity in, and never lose sight of it… Throughout the ages the great innovators in the history of science had always been aware of the transparency of phenomena towards a different order of reality, of the ubiquitous presence of the ghost in the machine—even such a simple machine as a magnetic compass or a Leyden jar. Once a scientist loses this sense of mystery, he can be an excellent technician, but he ceases to be a savant .
    Arthur Koestler: The Ghost in the Machine
     
     
     
    The Station of the Holy Order of Vision was, Brother Paul was forcibly reminded, well out in the sticks. It had not always been that way. This had once been a ghetto area. In the five years of the Matter Transmission program, officially and popularly known as MT and Empty respectively, several billion human beings had been exported to about a thousand colony planets. This was a rate that would soon depopulate the world.
    But it was not the policy of the Holy Order of Vision to interfere in lay matters. Brother Paul could think his private thoughts, but he must never try to force his political or economic opinions on others. Or, for that matter, his religious views.
    So now he trekked through the veritable wilderness surrounding the Station, past the standing steel bones of once-great buildings projecting into the sky like remnants of dinosaurs. During winter’s snows the effect was not so stark; the bones were blanketed. But this was summer. His destination was the lingering, shrinking technological civilization of the planet. The resurging brush and shrubs grew thicker and taller as he covered the kilometers, as though their growth kept pace with his progress, then gave way on occasion to clusters of dwellings like medieval villages. Each population cluster centered around some surviving bastion of technology: electricity generated from a water wheel, a wood-fueled kiln, or industrial-scale windmills.
    Village , he