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ignited the screen. Herb Asher remembered once again the burning down of his communications gear by Yah; he felt his heart race in anxiety.
    "If you don't want to watch it—" Rybys said.
    "It's not that." Telling her about Yah would be hard; he doubted if he could do it. "Something happened to me. Something woke me." He rubbed his eyes.
    "I'll bring you up to date," Rybys said. "Elias Tate—"
    "Who is Elias Tate?" Asher interrupted.
    "The old bearded man; I remember what the program is called, now. 'The Splendor of Elias Tate.' Elias has fallen into the hands-although they don't have hands, actually—of the antmen of Sychron Two. There's this queen who is really evil, named—I forget." She reflected. "Hudwillub, I think. Yes, that's it. Anyhow, Hudwillub wants Elias Tate dead. She's really awful; you'll see her. She has one eye.
    "Gracious," Asher said, not interested. "Rybys," he said, "listen to me."
    As if she had not heard him, Rybys plodded on, "However, Elias has this friend Elisha McVane; they're really good friends and they always help each other out. It's sort of—" She glanced at Asher. "Like you and me. You know; helping each other. I fixed you dinner and you came over here because you were worried about me."
    "I came over here," he said, "because I was told to."
    "But you were worried."
    "Yes," he said.
    "Elisha McVane is a lot younger than Elias. He's really good-looking. Anyhow, Hudwillub wants—"
    "Yah sent me," Asher said.
    "Sent you what?"
    "Here." His heart continued to labor.
    "Did he? That's really interesting. Anyhow, Hudwillub is very beautiful. You'll like her. I mean, you'll like her physically. Well, let me put it this way; she's objectively obviously attractive, but spiritually she's lost. Elias Tate is a sort of external conscience for her. What do you take in your tea?"
    "Did you hear—" he began and then gave up.
    "Milk?" Rybys examined the contents of her refrigerator, got out a carton of milk, poured some of the milk into a glass, tasted it and made a face. "It's sour. Goddam." She poured the milk down the sink drain.
    "What I am telling you," Asher said, "is important. The deity of my hill woke me up in the night to tell me that you were in trouble. He burned down half my equipment. He erased all my Fox tapes."
    "You can get more from the mother ship."
    Asher stared at her.
    "Why are you staring at me?" Quickly, Rybys inspected the buttons of her robe. "I'm not unfastened, am I?"
    Only mentally, he thought.
    "Sugar?" she said.
    "Okay," he said. "I should notify the C-in-C on the mother ship. This is a major matter."
    Rybys said, "You do that. Contact the C-in-C and tell him that God talked to you."
    "Can I use your gear? I'll report my meltdown at the same time. That's my proof."
    "No," she said.
    "No?" He glared at her, baffled.
    "That's inductive reasoning, which is suspect. You can't reason back from effects to causes."
    "What the hell are you talking about?"
    Calmly, Rybys said, "Your meltdown doesn't prove that God exists. Here; I'll write it down in symbolic logic for you. If I can find my pen. Look for it; it's red. The pen, not the ink. I used to—"
     "Give me a minute. Just one goddam minute. To think. Okay? Will you do that?" He heard his voice rising.
    "There's someone outside," Rybys said. She pointed to an indicator; it blinked rapidly. "A Clem stealing my trash. I keep my trash outside. That's because—"
    "Let the Clem in," Asher said, "and I'll tell it ."
    "About Yah? Okay, and then they'll start coming to your little hill with offerings, and they'll be consulting Yah all day and all night; you'll never get any peace. You won't be able to lie in your bunk and listen to Linda Fox. The tea is ready." She filled two cups with boiling water.
    Asher dialed the mother ship. A moment later he had the ship's operator circuit. "I want to report a contact with God," he said. "This is for the Commander-in-Chief personally. God spoke to me an hour ago. An autochthonic deity called