Chapter 17 Chapter Sixteen

He walked out of the palace, across the high pedestrian bridge, towards the building of the Order of Chizala.Paul changed his gait and limped a little.The sun was going down, and he walked in streaks of shadows.The shadows helped disguise, but piercing eyes could still pick him out from the posture of the body.He carries a shield, but doesn't open it.His aides thought the shimmer of the shield would arouse suspicion in others. Paul glanced to the left.Wisps of sand clouds float in the evening sky like blinds.The air passing through the distillate filter is very dry. He didn't come out alone.But security has not been more lax since he stopped walking alone at night.An orthopter equipped with a night monitor floated far overhead, seemingly without apparent purpose.They monitor his every move through a sensor device hidden in his clothing.A select group of guards roamed the streets below, while others were scattered throughout the city to protect the emperor in camouflage.He was in Fremen attire from top to bottom, dark stills and desert boots.Molds are embedded in the cheeks to change the appearance, and a water storage tube is attached to the left side of the chin.

When he reached the opposite side of the overpass, Paul glanced behind him, and there was a figure moving behind the stone battlements protecting his chamber.Definitely Gani. "Searching for sand in the desert," is how she described the adventure. She didn't know what a painful choice it was.Weigh the pain and choose the lesser one.But this choice makes lesser pain unbearable. In that moment of anguish, he waved her goodbye.At the last moment, Jia Ni realized the "Tao", and thus sensed his inner feelings.But she misread the meaning, mistaking the pain for something that comes naturally when people say goodbye to loved ones and throw themselves into danger.

If only I could be like her, ignorant of those painful choices, he thought. He crossed the overpass and entered the upper passage of the Order Building.There are fixed spherical lights everywhere, and people come and go in a hurry, busy with work.The Chizara Order never sleeps.Paul was fascinated by the signs on the door, as if seeing them for the first time: Department of Merchant Marine, Department of Refutation, Department of Prophecy, Department of Faith Testing, Department of Religious Agency, Department of Armed Forces... Department of Propagation of Faith... A more honest label would be the Ministry of Political Propaganda, he thought.

In the universe he rules, a new profession is rapidly emerging: religious affairs officer.This new type of character in the Chizara order is usually not a Fremen, but a converted convert.They seldom replace Freemen in key positions, but they fill almost all gaps outside the key positions.Such people use spices, on the one hand, because of the anti-aging function of spices, and on the other hand, to show that they can afford it.They stay away from figures and organizations that hold power such as the Emperor, the Guild of Spacemen, the Bee Geist Sisterhood, the Royal Family, or the Order of the Chizara.Their god is routine and files.Serving them are many Mentats, and a vast system of records.The first word in their handbook is self-interest, and the norms laid down by the Butran Jihad are just lip service.Machines, they will say, cannot have human consciousness.But in fact, they have long since betrayed this principle, and all their behavior shows that they prefer machines to humans, statistics to unique individuals, vague and general things to concrete. Individuals, because this kind of exposure requires imagination and innovation.

When Paul walked up the ramp on the other side of the building, the bells for Vespers at the Temple of Alia had just struck. There was a strange sense of eternity in the sound of the bells. The temple, across the crowded square, has been renovated.Religious ceremonies are also more recently devised.The temple is located in the desert on the edge of Araken. The wind and sand have begun to erode the stones and moldings of the temple. The arrangement of the surrounding buildings seems to be random.It all creates the impression that this is a very old place, full of tradition and mystery.He went down, into the middle of the crowd.The adventure begins.The only guide that security could find insisted on doing so.Paul agreed, much to the displeasure of his security officer, and even Stilgar disapproved of the approach.Jani, of course, was the most vocal objection.

There were crowds all around.They jostled against him, glanced at him without seeing him, and then hurried past.He felt an unusual freedom.He knew that was how they treated the Fremen.Now he is a man living in the depths of the desert.Such people are violent and easily angered. He followed the fast-moving crowd up the temple steps, and the crowd grew even more crowded.The people around kept pressing on him, and he found that everyone was apologizing to him: "Excuse me, sir. I can't stop this impolite behavior." "I'm sorry, sir, but it was too crowded." "I'm sorry, Citizen Saint. A fool pushed me down."

After doing this several times, Paul gradually became deaf to the apologies.There's really no emotion in those words, just traditional awe.He no longer thought of the people around him, but in his mind he recalled the long days since Caladan Castle's boyhood.Since when had he set foot on this road, away from Kaladan, to such a crowded square on such a planet?Has he really embarked on this path?He couldn't tell why he embarked on this road, and there seemed to be no special reason or motivation.His motives and the intertwined forces that propel him are too complex, probably more complex than any other drive that has appeared in human history.He stubbornly felt that he could still avoid the clearly visible fate that lay ahead.But the turbulent crowd pushed him forward. In a trance, he felt lost and unable to control his own life.

The crowd embraced him up the steps and into the portico of the temple.The people fell silent, and the horrible body odor intensified—sour, sweat. The acolytes have already started various preparations for evening prayers.Their flat chant drowns out all sounds—whispers, rustles of clothes, hurried footsteps, and coughs—telling a story of some far-off place, visited by the priestess in divine trance. There. Baraco!Paul thought of a Fremen word.Be careful!She may also burst into angry passions. Rows of tall and thin lamp tubes stand in the portico of the temple, simulating the flames of candles.With the flickering candlelight, Paul seemed to have returned to ancient times.He knew that the designer wanted this effect.The whole scene is a parody of ancient life.Well made and works well.There is also his handwriting here, and for this, he hates himself.The crowd carried him through a tall metal door and into the huge nave of the temple.It was dimly lit, flickering from far overhead, and at the far end of the hall was a brightly lit altar.The black wood behind the altar is carved with a seemingly simple pattern, which is the sand pattern in Freeman's mythology.The invisible lamps cast light on the guard gate's energy field, forming a rainbow.The singing acolytes lined up in seven rows under the colored light, in strange contrast to the rainbow: black robes, white faces, mouths opening and closing in unison.

Paul observed the pilgrims around him, and suddenly he was very envious of their concentration, their piety in listening to the truth.But he couldn't hear the truth.They seemed to get something here that they couldn't get, something that healed their wounds. He wanted to slowly move closer to the altar, but a hand grabbed his arm and he had to stop. Paul looked around, and found the inquiring gaze of an old Freeman—blue eyes, bushy eyebrows, as if he had known him before.A name flashed through Paul's mind: Lashia, a fellow caveman. Paul knew that in the crowded crowd, if Lashia used force, he would be completely helpless.

The old man moved closer, with one hand under his dull sand-colored robe, no doubt gripping the handle of the Screaming Blade.Paul chose a position that was best suited for the counterattack.The old man put his head close to Paul's ear and whispered, "With the others." This code word confirmed his identity as a guide.Paul nodded. Lashia stepped back, facing the altar. "She comes from the East," sang the acolyte, "and the sun is behind her. Everything is revealed in its light. Nothing escapes her eyes, light or darkness." The sound of rebecca sounded like crying, overshadowing the singing.The chant of the acolyte stopped abruptly.The crowd shook violently as if they had been hit by an electric shock, and rushed forward a few meters.They were stuck together like a meatloaf now, and the air was thick with the smell of breath and spices.

"On the clean sand, Xia Hulu wrote the holy words!" The acolytes shouted in unison. Paul felt that his breath had completely merged with the crowd around him.In the shadows behind the gleaming guard door, the female chorus began to sound faintly: "Alia...Alia...Alia" The voice grew louder and then suddenly fell silent. The voices sounded again—the soft vespers chant began: The singing became lower and lower, and gradually disappeared. Paul felt sick.What are we doing?he asked himself.Alia was just a little Bee Geist, but she was growing up.He thought: growing up means becoming more vicious. The collective unconsciousness that had gathered in the temple was eating away at his mind.The components of his body are the same as those around him, but his consciousness is different.He could feel the difference, and it oppressed him, squeezed him.There he stands, completely immersed in the crowd, yet isolated by his sin, which can never be forgiven.He clearly realized that the universe outside the temple was extremely grand and boundless.How can a single person and a set of religious rituals weave such a vast universe into a small coat suitable for everyone? Paul trembled. This vast universe resists every step he takes, making him unable to grasp it, and creating countless false images to confuse him.The universe will never accept any form he has given it. Another round of deep silence enveloped the entire temple. Alia stepped out from behind the flashing rainbow.She wears a yellow robe adorned with the green patterns of House Atreides - yellow for sunlight and green for death that created life.At this moment, Paul had an unexpected idea: Alia was here only for him, for him alone.His gaze passed through the crowd in the temple to his sister.She is his sister.He knew her habits and her birth, but he had never stood in this position before, with the pilgrims, seeing her through their eyes.Here, in this place of mystical prayers, he felt that she was part of this universe that was against him. The acolyte handed her a gold chalice. Alia raised her glass. By some intuition, Paul knew that the chalice contained the raw spice, an exquisite poison, to bring her the oracular communion. Alia stared at the chalice and began to speak.The voice gently brushes over the eardrum, like a flower blooming, smooth and moist, pleasant to the ear: "At first, we were nothingness," she said. "Being ignorant of everything," intoned the chorus. "We didn't know that gods reside in everything," Alia said. "Every hour," chants the chorus. "The gods are here," said Alia, raising the chalice gently. "It brings us joy," the chorus intones. Bring us sorrow too, Paul thought. "It wakes up the soul," Alia said. "It drives away doubt and fear," the chorus intones. "In the world we perish," said Alia. "In the bosom of God, we are born new," the chorus intoned. Alia raised the chalice to her lips and took a sip. Paul was startled to realize that he was holding his breath like the most ordinary pilgrim in the crowd.Even though he knew everything Aria was feeling at this moment, down to the tiniest point, he was seized.The scene of the poison being injected into the body came back to his memory: the consciousness turned into a speck of dust, displacing the poison.He experienced that awakened feeling again, that time had ceased to exist, and anything was possible.Yes, he understood how Alia was feeling at the moment, but at the same time he felt he didn't.Unspeakable mystery blinded his eyes. Alia shivered and fell to her knees. Paul panted with the obsessed pilgrim, intoxicated by a blissful vision, completely oblivious to the other possibilities that were looming that could become reality.In this illusion brought by Alia, people walk through the chaos, unable to distinguish real reality from accidental events that have no practical significance.This vision makes one yearn for an absolute perfection that can never be realized. And in longing man loses the present. Alia rocked back and forth in the intoxication of the spices. Paul felt something supernatural say to him, "Look! Look there! See what you're missing?" In an instant, he felt that with the help of another pair of eyes, he saw images and rhythms that no painter or poet could describe.Lifelike and beautiful.It is like a dazzling light, in front of it, all human greed is fully exposed... including his own greed. Alia spoke, and the loudspeaker boomed in the hall. "Bright night," she called. A moan rolled over the pilgrims like a raging wave. "In a night like this, there is nothing to hide!" Alia said. "How blinding is this darkness! Can't look at it, senses can't capture it, words can't describe it." Her voice was low. Down, "A blackness, in which all things are conceived. Oh, how gentle it is, and how violent it is!" Paul found himself expecting some special hint from his sister.It may be some action or word, some witchcraft, some occult method.These hints would suit him like crossbow bolts snapped into bow slots.tense moment.This moment was turbulent in his consciousness, like rolling mercury. "There will be sorrow in the future," Alia groaned. "I tell you, everything is just a beginning, always a beginning. The world is to be conquered. Some of those who listen to me will have a noble fate. The time of greatness , you will laugh at the past and forget what I tell you now: all differences are but fleeting clouds, differences are temporary, and the one thing that never changes is unity." Alia looked down.Paul almost cried out in disappointment: she hadn't said what he expected.His body felt like an empty husk, like the cast-off husk of some desert insect. Others must have felt similarly to him, he thought.He felt the crowd stir around him. Suddenly, a woman standing on the other side of the hall to Paul's left yelled, a wordless cry of pain. Alia looked up, and Paul was dizzy with excitement.The distance between them collapsed.He looked steadily into Alia's glassy eyes, as if he were inches away from her. "Who's calling me?" Alia asked. "It's me," the woman cried. "It's me, Alia. Oh, Alia, help me. They say my son was killed on Moritan. Is he really gone? I'll never see my son again... ever?" "Did you walk in the sand?" Alia groaned. "Everything will go back to the way it was. Everything will come back. It just comes back in a different form, and you don't recognize them anymore." "Alia, I don't understand!" the woman whimpered. "You live in air, but you can't see air," snapped Alia. "Are you a mindless lizard? You speak with a Freemen accent. Would the Freemen try to raise the dead? We don't want anything from the dead but his water." In the middle of the hall, a man in a crimson cloak raised his hands, and the sleeves slid down, revealing his white arms. "Alia," he yelled, "I've got a business proposal. Should I take it?" "You came here like a beggar," said Alia. "You looked for the bowl, but you found only the dagger." "Someone asked me to kill a person!" A roar sounded from the right, with a deep, cavernous tone, "Should I accept it? If I accept it, can I succeed?" "The beginning and the end are the same thing," snapped Alia. "Didn't I tell you guys before: You didn't come here to ask this question. What the hell are you suspecting, come here and shout Express your doubts?" "She's had a bad temper tonight," muttered a woman next to Paul. "Have you ever seen her so angry before?" She knows I'm coming, Paul thought.Had she seen something in the vision that irritated her?Is she mad at me? "Alia," cried a man ahead of Paul, "tell those merchants and cowards how long your brother's rule lasts!" "You should ask yourself and think about it," growled Alia. "What you say is your prejudice! You have houses and water because my brother controls Chaos!" Alia grabbed hold of the robe, turned sharply, and strode through the flickering band of light, disappearing into the darkness behind the rainbow. The acolytes immediately sang the closing song, but the rhythm was out of order.They were obviously caught off guard by the sudden end of the Vespers service.There was a murmur from the crowd.Paul felt the people around him stirring up, restless and discontented. "It's all the fool's fault for asking his stupid business question," murmured the woman next to Paul. "That hypocrite!" What did Alia see?What traces of the future were found? Something must have happened here tonight to spoil the oracle.Ordinarily, people would clamor and beg Alia to answer their poor questions.Yes, they come here like beggars to pray to the oracle.He had come here many times before to listen, hidden in the darkness behind the altar.What made things so different tonight? The old Freeman tugged at Paul's sleeve and nodded towards the exit.The crowd started to move towards it.Paul was forced to move with them, the guide's hand still clutching his sleeve. At this moment, he felt his body become some kind of force beyond his control.He became a non-person, something alien, moving aimlessly.And he himself is parasitic in this inhuman interior, led by others through the streets of his own city, on a familiar road he has seen countless times in visions.This road made his heart freeze, heavy and full of sorrow. I should have known what Alia saw, he thought, because I've seen it countless times myself.But she didn't yell and point him out...because she saw other possibilities at the same time.