What had happened to Carolyn? Brother Paul was unmarried and had no daughter; he was sure of that now. So she could not have been lost. Yet he was also sure of Carolyn’s reality. In that time, ten years in his future…

  Well, he would have to worry about his future when he got closer to it. “What is your concern?” he asked the man. Therion of course was teasing him since Therion had had a part in the recent sequence.

  “You looked at other religions and other philosophies, including your idea of an educational institution, and found them wanting,” Therion said. “By elimination, you are choosing the Christian God. But do you have the courage to view your Jesus and his cult as skeptically as you view the others?”

  A grim but valid challenge. “I must be fair,” Brother Paul agreed.

  “Even though your Son of God was an arrant sexist?”

  “What?” Brother Paul demanded, irritated.

  “He dealt with men. He went to his cousin John the Baptist for the start of his ministry and gathered about him twelve men for disciples. Why no women? Didn’t he think they were children of God too? Or were they just the servant class, not to be taken seriously?”

  “Of course not!” Brother Paul snapped. But then he paused. Why hadn’t there been some female disciples? “You have to understand: in those times the whole culture relegated women to a restricted status, especially in religious matters.”

  “In Christian realms,” Therion said. “Not among the Pagans. The Horned God welcomed women. The temples abounded with priestesses, and they were completely uninhibited.”

  All too true. To Therion, the ultimate fulfillment of a woman was as a Temple prostitute or madam, a seducer of men. No use arguing that case. “Jesus was a Jew. He was not free to flout the established conventions of his people. He would have been mobbed much earlier than he was if he had female disciples, and his message would never have reached its audience.” Those who preached a message whose time had not yet come always suffered; Paul had felt that backlash himself when he defended the free association of boys and girls at college. How well he understood! “Circumstances forced him to—”

  “To preach salvation for men, not for women,” the other finished snidely.

  “Jesus did honor women!” Brother Paul said. “Some of them were missionaries for him—”

  Therion sneered his best sneer. “Such as?”

  “Such as the woman of the well!” Brother Paul said. “She told of Jesus among the Samaritans and brought her relatives and friends to see him, and there were many converts—”

  “The woman at the well,” Therion repeated, as though that were a suggestively curious example. “You really think that proves anything?”

  “Yes! It’s right there in the Bible!”

  Therion jumped down from the Bible. “Then take a look inside your own Good Book—between the lines.” He heaved the cover up like the lid of a coffin. The pages flipped over by themselves, past the Old Testament, slowing in the New Testament. Matthew… Mark… Luke… John. Chapters 1… 2… 3… 4.

  “‘Now Jesus left Judea, and came again to Galilee,’” Therion read aloud with exaggerated emphasis. Around the Bible the landscape of that time and place formed. At first the scene was distant as if seen from an airplane—No, not that!—then it steadied. It was as though the cameras were being dollied along by a truck driving along a country road, the huge Bible being that truck. There was a field and a well.

  “He had to go through Samaria,” Therion continued as the camera oriented on that well. The giant open Bible faded out, becoming the built-up stone. “‘He approached a city called Sychar, near to a field Jacob had given to his son Joseph, and Jacob’s well was there.’”

  “Yes,” Brother Paul said. He was confident that when it came to quoting excerpts from the Christian Bible, he could match any challenge made by this man. “That’s the passage. The Samaritans were mixed people from many eastern lands, settled in Israel by the Assyrians after the Israelites were carried away. They brought in their own forms of worship, but when they suffered plagues they converted to Judaism, intermarried with Jews, and claimed descent from Abraham and Moses. This annoyed the regular Jews, and relations between the two cultures became bad. So it was quite significant when Jesus met a Samaritan woman and converted her though she was of ill repute, forgiving her her sins—”

  “Or so the expurgated text would have us believe,” Therion said. “Those Samaritans were eager to gain acceptance by Jews any way they could. Watch what really happened.”

  From the field a man came, dressed in a flowing off-white tunic bound by a dusty blue sash. The amount of material was necessary to ward off the burning sun. He was bearded and wore a flap of material over his head though his face shone with sweat. He was familiar in a strange double sense. “Lee!” Brother Paul cried, then covered his mouth.

  “Do not be concerned,” Therion said. “He is locked into his role; he can not escape it, no matter how it annoys him, until we release him from the script. You and I can not be perceived by any but ourselves; we are as ghosts.”

  That was only part of Brother Paul’s concern. If the role could be forced on an individual by others in the Animation, while the person thought it was his own will—then Animation was potentially a horror unmatched in the annals of man!

  Then another facet struck him. “Lee—as Jesus?” he asked, amazed.

  “Why the hell not? It’s only a part in a skit, and we need an actor. He knew it when he signed on.”

  Knew that he might be subject to horrendous indignities, even the loss of his life. Yes. Brother Paul had known the same. Nevertheless, Animation was opening disquieting doors to him. For now, it seemed best to let Therion present his case.

  Jesus was grimy and tired; this showed in his slow gait and general demeanor. He came up to the well and sat down on the low wall beside it. This was a pleasant enough place, really an oasis, walled in to protect it from blowing debris and polluted runoff from storms, but with green vines overgrowing the walls. The city it served was visible in the distance; steps led up from the depression the well was in, and a well-worn path meandered toward the city. Brother Paul wondered why the well had not been situated nearer the city or vice versa; but he knew there would be many complicating factors, such as the lay of the land, the most fertile fields, the intersections of roads, and just plain ornery tradition. No doubt the women got good exercise, carrying their heavy jugs of water across that distance every day.

  Jesus rested beside the well with evident relief. Soon, however, his tongue ran over dry lips; he was thirsty. He stood, crossed to the stone edge of the well, and leaned over to peer into it. The water was too far down to reach directly. There was a rope, but no bucket. Unless he wanted to jump in—which would be foolish, since he would be unable to climb out again (thirst vs. survival)—there was no way for him to fetch up water. Resigned, he returned to the other wall and sat again.

  The sun bore down from almost directly overhead. Jesus sat alone, eyes downcast, his tongue playing again over cracking lips. “His disciples have gone into the city to buy food,” Therion explained.

  Now a woman came to the well, carrying her water jar: a large earthen crock with twin curving handles, shaped with archaic artistry. She was young and resembled her jug in the esthetics of her outline. She wore a faded blue skirt and a brown shawl tied in front like a halter for her full bosom, and her kerchief descended from her head to fall over one shoulder in front to her waist. Her dainty feet were protected by half-sandals, hardly more than straps about heel and sole, leaving her toes free. Woman of ill repute she might be, but an extremely fetching one. Of course, it was much easier for a homely woman to be of good repute; temptation did not constantly come courting.

  “Amaranth,” Brother Paul murmured. Every Animation scene was different, but the basic cast of characters was constant. But Amaranth would not be able to indulge her normal siren role here!

  The woman trotted bouncily down the steps, glanced fleetingly at Jesus, and promptly ignored him. She stopped at the well, picked up the loose rope, strung it through an eyelet of her jar, and lowered the jar carefully its distance to the water. The sound of gurgling became loud as the air bubbled out.

  Jesus emerged from his reverie. “Please give me a drink of water,” he said.

  Surprised, the woman looked directly at him. “Aren’t you a Jew? From Galilee?” A person’s accent and garb made him readily identifiable, geographically and culturally.

  Jesus nodded. “Jews also thirst, even those from Galilee.”

  “You, a Jew, ask a Samaritan woman for a drink? Your people and ours have no dealings.” Yet, vaguely flattered, she drew up the full jug and passed it to him. The hospitality of water was fundamental to this arid region.

  Jesus drank deeply. At last he returned the jug, wiping moisture off his beard with his sleeve. “If you only knew the gift of God and who it is who asked you for a drink, you would have asked him for living water.”

  “What a come-on!” Therion remarked appreciatively. “Just like that he’s hooked her curiosity. He’d make a good carnival barker.”

  Brother Paul repressed his reaction, knowing that Therion was baiting him.

  The woman of the well smiled tolerantly as she lowered her jug to refill it. “You have no jug and no deep well; where would you get ‘living water’? Do you think you’re greater than Jacob who gave us this well?”

  Jesus, refreshed by his rest and drink, smiled back. “Everyone who drinks of the water of this well will thirst again; but whoever drinks of the water I give him will never thirst again.”

  She set down her brimming jug and untied the rope. “All right, I’ll bite, Jew: give me some of this living water.”

  Jesus lowered his hand to his own midsection, outlining through the cloth what rose up there. “What about your husband?”

  Her eyes widened momentarily as she comprehended the nature of his offer. “I have no husband.”

  “Well spoken,” Jesus agreed, taking her by the elbows and drawing her in to him. “You’ve had many husbands in your time, each only for a night. Now you may have one for a day.”

  She glanced about, making sure that no one was approaching the well from the city. “I see you are a prophet.” She raised her lips for a kiss.

  “Woman, believe me, the time is coming—”

  “That’s not all that’s—”

  Brother Paul could stand it no longer. “Stop it!” he cried. “This—this is appalling!”

  “But you haven’t seen the best part,” Therion protested with mock innocence. “Wait till you see the Divine Erection. He really socks the Holy Ghost to her till she overflows with—”

  “Jesus never fornicated with women! He—”

  Therion frowned. “So you can’t face the expurgated pages of your Bible? Where is your open mind?”

  Flustered, Brother Paul had to take a moment to organize his thoughts. “There is a distinction between open-mindedness and sacrilegious pornography. I just don’t believe Jesus would do such a thing! The ‘Living Water’ he referred to was the Holy Spirit. For you to distort that into a lascivious connection—”

  “You don’t concede the possibility that Jesus might have had a normal interest in the opposite sex?” Therion inquired evenly. “That he might be tempted on occasion to dally with a good-looking, lower-class woman who showed him some kindness? Not a Jewish woman, of course; that would be crass. But the Samaritans were not in the same class. Being a prophet is hard work; he had to take a break sometime.”

  “No!” Brother Paul cried, closing his mind to the superficial reasonableness of Therion’s argument. He knew what this man’s route led to! “There’s no evidence in all the Bible that Jesus ever had sexual relations with a woman!”

  Therion smiled nastily. “A very interesting qualification. Verrry interesting! You are implying he had sexual relations with a man!”

  “No! I—” But Brother Paul knew he had plunged into another trap foolishly. It was not as though he had no hint of the proclivities of this worshiper of the Devil.

  Therion closed the jaws inexorably. “As you have established, Jesus never touched women sexually. Had the Samaritan woman at the well proffered her charms, he would have cast her aside and never bothered to make converts from the Samaritans. Therefore, he must have vented his natural passions on those with whom he felt greater kinship. And indeed your Bible establishes that—”

  “Impossible!” Brother Paul cried.

  The huge pages flipped over again to the eleventh chapter of John, and the picture formed. “Now there was a man who was sick, the Brother of Mary, who had anointed Jesus’ feet with oil and wiped them with her hair, and been forgiven of her sins.’” Therion looked up. “You know, that’s a most interesting use of feminine hair; I shall have to try it sometime. Jesus certainly liked to forgive pretty women their sins, especially when they kissed his stinking feet. In those days women really knew their place. I dare say some of them were very grateful to be allowed to tongue his toes, and had he desired them to extend their oral attentions up his legs somewhat—”

  He paused, but this time Brother Paul refused to be baited. It was folly to engage this man in casual debate.

  “Well,” Therion continued, “This brother of Mary’s name was Lazor or Lazarus. Jesus loved Lazarus, and if we take that literally—”

  The scene showed Jesus putting his hand on a man, drawing him in for a kiss in much the same fashion as the woman at the well.

  “No!” Brother Paul cried. “This was normal friendship! You have no grounds to presume—”

  Therion faced him seriously. “You balk at all reasonable conjectures. That’s part of the problem with your whole weird religion. Now I submit to your objective mind this hypothesis: if Jesus did not indulge himself with the fair sex or with men, he must have beat his meat in private—”

  “No!”

  “What, then, did he do? Fuck his sheep?”

  And Brother Paul was unable to answer. This devil was overwhelming him with horror. How could he choose between fornication, homosexuality, masturbation, and bestiality?

  Then, like a bright light, it struck him: “The Bible only covers a small portion of Jesus’ life! Only his birth, his bar mitzvah at age twelve, and his spiritual mission commencing at the age of thirty. Eighteen years of his youth and early maturity are missing. He could have led a perfectly normal life in every respect, which the framers of the New Testament were too prudish to mention—or simply didn’t know about!”

  “Which is what I suggested at the outset,” Therion agreed. “That woman at the well was about as sexy as Samaritans come. Note how thereafter he told the Parable of the Good Samaritan. Obviously he was thinking of the good lay he had—”

  “No!” Brother Paul was back in the first trap, sloughing through the muck of a degenerate’s imagination. “No casual sex. He must have married—”

  Therion raised an eyebrow. He had superb facial control. “Is there any mention of that in the Bible?”

  Was there no way out? “No, no mention. But as I said, editing or oversight—”

  “Do you really believe they could have missed something like that? A whole wife mislaid?” Therion smiled with satisfaction at his passing pun. “Not one Apostle, not one associate of Christ saying one word about the little woman? No widow at the crucifixion, no children orphaned?”

  It was hopeless. “No, they could not have missed that,” Brother Paul admitted heavily. “Jesus was not married.” How tempting to conjecture a loving wife who died childless of some fever before Jesus commenced his mission—but futile.

  “So we are back to the question. What did Jesus do with his penis when he wasn’t urinating?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you think you owe it to your mission to find out?”

  Diabolical imperative! “Yes,” Brother Paul said grimly. The honor of Jesus Christ had been challenged, and Brother Paul had to vindicate it—if he could. Failure would mean the elimination of the entire complex of religions deriving from Christ and leave the field open to the Horned God.

  “There’s the record,” Therion said, indicating the Bible.

  “Father, forgive me,” Brother Paul murmured prayerfully. “I must do it.” He stepped toward the huge Book, and the pages flipped over so rapidly that they became a blur. He put one foot into that blur and then the other, sank into it as into a bank of fog, and found himself in Galilee, standing in a mountain pasture. He looked about.

  It was a typical semi-tropic slope with a few sturdy trees and tall grass going to seed. In due course, he was sure, a shepherd would guide his sheep here, and in a few days they would crop the grass low. Then they would go on to a greener pasture, allowing this one to recycle itself. There were no fences of course; the land was open to any who cared to use it and who had the power to preempt it. Shepherds could be rough characters, he knew; little David had become master of the sling, protecting his flock from wolves, and had used that weapon to slay Goliath.

  A man emerged from the brush down the incline, walking in relaxed but purposeful manner. This was Jesus; Brother Paul knew him at a glance, for he recognized Lee’s bearing. Naturally Jesus was coming this way: Brother Paul’s Animation had been crafted to put him in the man’s path.

  Jesus spied him and paused. Brother Paul raised a hand in greeting. This was a scene from a play, of course, and not genuine history, yet he felt a thrill of expectancy. Even in a mere skit, the notion of meeting Jesus Christ personally…

  “Hello,” Brother Paul said as Jesus approached. He did not speak in Jesus’ native language, Aramaic, as neither he nor Lee knew it. In a real jaunt into the past, there would be a virtually insurmountable linguistic barrier.

  “Hello,” Jesus responded. He was about Brother Paul’s age with shoulder length hair lightened by the fierce Levantine sun. His beard was short and rather sparse. He held his long staff ready, a weapon in abeyance.

  Now it was awkward. Brother Paul did not feel free to ask Jesus directly about the state of his sex life, but he could not simply let the man go. “I—crave companionship. May I walk with you?”