Jill grabbed a nightgown and hurried into the living room. "Come in, dear. We're in the bath; he'll be out soon. I'll get you a drink—then you can go into the bath for a second. There's plenty of hot water."
"I took a shower after putting the sugar buns to bed, but—well, I'd love to take a soak. But Jill darling, I'm not here to borrow your bathtub; I'm here because you boys are leaving, My heart is broken."
"We won't lose touch." Jill was busy pouring wine, "Tim is right, Mike and I have to think about our performance."
"There's nothing wrong with your performance. Perhaps you should add a little more humor, but—hey, Smitty." She held out her gloved hand to him.Outside the camp, always in gloves, a turtleneck suit, and stockings, Mrs. Pivinski looked (and was) a well-groomed, respectable middle-aged woman.
"I was telling Jill," she went on, "that you did a good job."
Mike smiled slightly. "Pat, don't bully us. The show sucks."
"No, my dear. Oh, sure, it would be nicer to be more lively. Add a few jokes, or shrink Jill's dress a little more. You're in great shape, sweetheart."
Jill shook her head, "It's useless."
"Well, I once saw a magician who had his assistants dress up like 'Happy Nineties'—it was the 1890s—with their legs wrapped tightly, and then he put them on one piece at a time. Clothes changing. The nerds loved that show. Don't get me wrong, honey—it's not vulgar at all. In the end, she's wearing as much as you are now."
"Pat," Jill said, "as long as the show can recruit people, I'm happy to play naked."
"You can't do that, sweetheart, idiots will riot. But since you are born with a good figure, why don't you take advantage of it? As long as there are no regulations or anything blocking it, I'll keep peeling it off to the end. Otherwise, I What does being a tattooed lady do?"
"Speaking of clothes," Mike said, "you don't look very comfortable, Pat. The air conditioner in this place is messed up again—I think it's at least ninety years old." There is no taboo, it is enough to dress like this.The heat didn't bother him too much; at most, an occasional tweak to his metabolism would do.But their friend was used to comfortably wearing next to nothing, and only put on these prim clothes to cover his tattoos when he was among the nerds. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable? 'It's just us chickens, no one else.'" The last line was a joke, used to emphasize that it was just friends alone—Jubbal had explained it to him.
"Yeah, Pat," Jill echoed, "if it's light underneath you, I can give you something."
"Hmm... well, I'm wearing a costume instead."
"Then stop being polite to your friends. I'll help you zip up."
"I've got to get these shoes and socks done first," she continued, wondering how she could bring the conversation up to religion.Bless them, these kids are ready to be seekers, she's sure of it - but she thought she'd have a whole season to guide them to the light, "Do show business, Smithy, that's the point Just get to know the nerds. If you're a real magician—oh, I'm not saying you're not good at it, honey, you're great.” She tucked her stockings into her shoes, and Jill helped her zip them down, “I Means you have to act like you sold your soul to the devil. Idiots know it's just a trick, so you have to make them feel comfortable and lighthearted. Ever seen a fire eater on stage with a pretty assistant? God Pretty girls just interfere with his performance; idiots want to see him set himself on fire."
She took the dress off over her head; Jill took it and kissed her. "That's how natural it looks, Aunt Pat. Sit down and have a drink."
"Just take it easy, dear." Mrs. Pivinsky prayed to God for guidance.Yep, the patterns on her body speak for themselves - George put them in there for that, "Look, this is what I bring to the nerds. Have you seen these paintings, I mean seriously have seen it?"
"No," Jill admitted, "we don't want to stare at you like idiots."
"Then stare now, dear--George, what a sweet man, may he rest in heaven, he put them on me just to be seen. To be seen. To be studied. Here , under my chin is the birth of Prophet Holy Archangel Frost - just an innocent little baby who doesn't know what fate God has planned for him. But the angels know - see No, they surround him? The next scene is his first miracle. In the country elementary school he went to, a sinner younger than himself shot a poor bird... He put it Picked it up and stroked it, and it flew away unscathed. Now I have to turn around." She explained that George couldn't find a place on her to start working on this great work—the canvas had already Full, no room.Fortunately, God gave him inspiration. In the end, George changed "Pearl Harbor Attack" to "Doomsday War" and "New York Style" to "Holy City".
"Even though every inch of skin was painted with sacred pictures," she admitted, "George had a hard time finding a place to write every milestone of the Prophet's life on earth. Here is where he Sermoning on the steps of the blasphemous seminary that refused to accept him - that's when he was first arrested and the persecution began. Turn this way, on my spine you can see him destroying idolatry ...then he was in prison, and the light of heaven poured down. Then the 'steady few' stormed the prison—”
(Pastor Foster realized that in the fight for religious liberty you need guns, sticks, and the determination to fight the police far more than passive resistance. His church is a self-made military church. But he Also a strategist; battles are fought only when the heavy weapons are on the Lord's side.)
"—rescued him, and caught the false judge who sentenced him, tarred and feathered the man. And turned to the front—well, you can't see much; my bra is in the way. Really Pity."
("Michael, what does she want?")
("You know it yourself. Tell her.")
"Aunt Pat," said Jill gently, "you want us to see all the pictures, don't you?"
"Well... Tim is right, George used all my skin to draw the complete story."
"If George does that much, he must want them to be seen. Take your clothes off. As I said, I'd be happy if I went on stage naked. Our show is still entertainment, and yours is still There is a purpose ... a divine purpose."
"Okay...if you want me to," she sang Hallelujah to herself!Furst's backing her up—with good luck and George's writings, she's sure to lead these dear children to God's light.
"let me help you."
("Jill—")
("What, Michael?")
("etc.")
Mrs. Pivinsky was stunned to find her beautiful briefs and bra gone.Jill's pajamas were gone too—of course she wasn't surprised at all, only slightly surprised to find that Mike had lost his own clothes, too.Mike did it out of politeness, and he was polite like a cat.
Mrs. Pivinsky gasped.Jill put her arms around her. "That, that, honey. It's nothing. Mike, you have to tell her."
"Yes, Jill Pat—"
"What, Smitty?"
"You said my trick was a sleight of hand. You were going to undress just now—so I undressed you."
"But how did you do it? Where are the clothes?"
"With Jill's pajamas—and my robe. No more."
"Don't worry, Pat," Jill interjected, "we'll find you something else to wear. Mike, you shouldn't be doing that."
"I'm sorry, Jill. I realize it's nothing."
"Hmm... maybe you're right." Aunt Pat didn't seem too disturbed, and besides, she was a circus person with a tight mouth and would never tell anyone about it.
Mrs. Pivinsky didn't worry about two pieces of clothing, and being naked didn't matter to her, whether she was naked or the other.What got her emotional was a theological question. "Smitty, is that real magic?"
"I guess you'd call it magic," Mike said carefully.
"I'd rather call it a miracle," Pat blurted out.
"As long as you want. It's not a trick anyway."
"I know." She wasn't afraid, and Patricia Pivinsky, backed by faith, was afraid of nothing.But she worried for her friend, "Smitty—look me in the eyes. Have you made a deal with the devil?"
"No, Pat, I didn't."
She continued to look into his eyes, "You're not lying—"
"He doesn't know how to lie at all, Aunt Pat."
"Then it's a miracle. Smitty . . . you're a saint!"
"I don't know, Pat."
"Archangel Frost didn't know until he was a teenager, though he's done miracles before. You're a saint; I can feel it. I think I felt it when I first met you." "I I don't know, Pat."
"I think he might be a real saint," Gill admits, "but he doesn't know it himself. Michael ... we've said so much we've just got to keep talking."
"Michael!" cried Pat suddenly, "Michael the Archangel, God has sent him among us in human form."
"Come on, Pat! Even if he was, he wouldn't know—"
"It's quite possible that God works miracles in his own way."
"Aunt Pat, will you hear me out?"
Soon, Mrs. Pivinsky knew that Mike was from Mars.She agreed to treat him like a human being—while affirming her own opinions about who he was and why he was here.First was a real human being as well, but he was also, and always will be, an archangel.If Jill and Michael insisted that they were not saved, she would treat them as they wished—God is always amazing.
"I suppose you could call us 'Teachers,'" Mike told her.
"That's enough, dear! I'm sure you're saved—Frost himself was a seeker to begin with. I'll help you."
She's in yet another Miracle.They sat on the rug; Jill lay down and mentally told Mike what she was thinking.Mike levitated her with no spells or props.Patricia witnessed the scene with quiet joy.Then Mike said, "Lie down, Pat."
She obeyed without hesitation, as if it were Foster.
Jill turned her head: "Do you want to put me down first, Mike?"
"No, I can do it."
Mrs. Pivinsky felt herself lifted slightly.She was not frightened, but felt a unparalleled religious ecstasy that seemed to flow up her waist and fill her eyes with tears; she had not experienced such a feeling since St. First's touch.
Mike moved them together and Jill hugged her; more tears came and she sobbed with joy.
Mike put them down and found he wasn't tired—he couldn't remember the last time he was tired.
"Mike...we need water."
("???)
(“That’s right,” she answered mentally.)
("Then?"--
("Then do what you have to do. Why do you think she came?)
("I know. I'm just not sure if you know...or agree. My brother. My ego.")
〔"my brother.")
Mike carried a glass into the bathroom, had the tap fill it, and gave it to Jill.Mrs. Pivinsky watched with interest; nothing could surprise her now.Jill told her, "Aunt Pat, it's like a baptism...it's like a marriage. It's a...Martian thing. It means you trust us and we trust you...We can tell you anything, you're right So do we... We are partners, now and forever. But once the ritual is done, it can never be undone. If you break it, we die—immediately. Saved or not. If we break it—we It's not going against it. Don't share water with us if you don't want to. We're still friends. If it's getting in the way of your faith, don't do it. We don't belong to your church and probably never will Join. The best you can do is call us 'seekers,' Mike?"
"Pat, Jill's right," he echoed. "I wish we could explain it to you in Martian, so it would be clearer. This ceremony is all about marriage—and a lot more. Offering water." Unfettered... But if you have any objection in religion or in your heart—then don't drink it!"
Patricia Pivinski took a deep breath.She had made a similar decision in the past...with her husband watching.She didn't flinch back then.What is she, how could she refuse?This is a saint, and the blessed bride of the saint. "I want it," she said firmly.
Jill took a sip of water. "Our bond never stops." She handed the glass to Mike. "
"Thank you for the water, my brother." He took a sip. "Pat, I give you the water of life. May you always drink to your heart's content." He handed the glass to Pat.
Patricia took the glass, "Thank you. Thank you, oh dear! The 'water of life' - I love you both!" She drank hungrily.
Jill took the glass and drank the rest of the water. "Now we grow closer, my brothers."
("Jill?")
("Now!!)
Michael lifted his new brother, let her float into the bedroom, and lowered her gently to the bed.Valentin Michael Smith had the epiphany that the physical kind of human love—the very human, very physical kind—is not just a ritual to speed up egg laying or increase intimacy; the act itself is an increase close.He is still working on his enlightenment, and will enlighten it more fully as soon as he gets a chance.He thought that perhaps even Elder Ling didn't understand such ecstasy.This thought troubled him for a while.But he now has an epiphany that his new compatriots have a unique spiritual depth.He explored, happy because no one in his childhood planted taboos to hold him back or feel guilty about these things.
His human teachers are gentle and generous.They taught him without hurting his innocence.The result is unique, just like himself.
Pat had just shared water with Mike in an ancient Martian ritual, and now began sharing Mike himself in an ancient human manner.As Jill expected, Pat accepted it without reservation.Mike proved himself capable of miracles in this area too.Jill was a little surprised that Pat could calmly accept the miracle in the bedroom.What Jill doesn't know is that Patricia has met another saint in the past, so her expectations of saint are much higher.They acted right at the crucial point, and it gave Jill a quiet joy...and then, her own growing closeness in ecstatic joy.
When everyone was resting, Jill asked Mike to treat Pat to a bath with telepathy, while she was laughing and laughing.The first time Mike did it for Jill it was purely for fun, and now it's a family tradition.Jill knew Pat would love it. —Pat was bathed by invisible hands and dried with neither a towel nor a hairdryer.Looking at Pat's expression, Jill couldn't help giggling.
Patricia blinked: "When I encounter such a miracle, I really have to have a drink."
"Of course, dear."
"Also, I still want you kids to see my paintings." They walked into the living room, and Pat stood in the middle of the rug. "Look at me first. Look at me, not my paintings. What do you see? "
Mike mentally peeled off her tattoo, put aside the decorations, and gazed at his new brother.He liked her tattoos; they set her apart, gave her an ego, and gave her a little bit of Mars, keeping her from the drab, featureless nature of most humans.He considered getting himself a full body tattoo, of course he had to figure out what to tattoo first.What was his father, Jubal, the water brother, like in his life?You have to think about it.Jill might want to write, too.What kind of pattern can make Jill more beautiful and Jill?
Pat wasn't as good looking without the tattoos; she looked like a woman should be.Mike still hasn't had an epiphany about Duke's collection of pictures; they've taught him that women come in many different sizes, shapes, colors, and there are technical differences in love, but other than that, he doesn't have an epiphany. What else can a baby picture of Duke teach.Mike's training had made him a scrupulous observer, but it had also blunted him to the subtle pleasures of voyeurism.Not that he finds women (including, and especially, Patricia Pivinsky) sexually unattractive, but that attraction lies not in seeing them.The senses of smell and touch accounted for more weight - in these respects he was half human, half Martian. (The Martian sexual response is triggered by the sense of smell and touch, which happens once in a long time. But in terms of subtlety, romance, etc., Martian sex is probably equivalent to a sneeze, or an intravenous injection.)
Without tattoos, Mike became more aware of one thing: Patricia has a face of her own, and her life experiences have made it extraordinarily beautiful.He was surprised to find that Pat's face was even more selfish than Jill's.It brings his feelings for Pat closer to love (of course, he doesn't have epiphany on the word yet).
She still has her own taste, her own voice.Her voice was hoarse, and even when he didn't get what she meant, Mike enjoyed listening to her; dealing with snakes gave her a musky scent.Mike loved her snakes, and he could handle even the venomous ones—not just dodging attacks by extending his sense of time.They had epiphanies with him; he savored their innocent, brutal thoughts, and they reminded him of home.Except for Pat, Sugarloaf only likes to have Mike touch himself.The boa constrictor was so dull that others could touch it without fear of injury, but Mike accepted him as another Pat.
Mike makes the tattoo resurface.
Jill wonders why Aunt Pat has tattoos.If she hadn't turned herself into a comic book, she would have looked pretty good.But Jill loved Pat for who she was, not for what she looked like—and tattoos did give her a steady income...until she got old.By then, even if the tattoo was painted by Rembrandt himself, the idiot will not pay to see her.She wished Pat had saved enough money in her little coffer—and then it occurred to her that Aunt Pat was Water Brothers now, and that Mike's endless wealth belonged to her as well.This made Jill feel warm for a while.
"Well?" demanded Mrs. Pivinski. "What did you see? How old am I, Michael?"
"I have no idea."
"guess."
"I won't, Pat."
"Pat," Jill interrupted, "he really can't. He hasn't learned to judge age. You know he's only been on Earth for a short time. Mike figured it out using Martian years and the Martian algorithm. If time or Numbers, I have to do it for him.”
"Well...you take a guess, honey. Tell the truth."
Jill looked Pat up and down, noting not only her upright figure but her hands, throat, and eyes—and subtracted five years from the result (to be thoroughly honest with Brother Water, of course). "Well, around thirty years old, the error is within a year."
Mrs. Pivinsky smiled smugly. "That's the reward of true faith, my dear! I'm almost fifty, dear Jill."
"—I can't see it at all!"
"That's the effect of happiness, dear. I've been out of shape horribly since I had my first child - the word 'broad' was invented just for me. Belly looks like it's six months pregnant and boobs sag Go on. I've never had a breast lift. Of course, a good surgeon doesn't leave a scar... But you can see it on me, dear; that'd have to punch holes in two pictures.
"Then, I saw the light! No exercise, no dieting—I eat like a pig. Joy, my dear. God-given perfect joy through blessed man First."
"It's incredible." Jill said.Aunt Pat hadn't been dieting or exercising for as long as they'd known each other.Jill knew all about breast lifts, and those tattoos had clearly never been under the knife.
From Mike's point of view, whether or not Pat attributes this to Foster, she must have learned to think of her body as the shape she wanted it to be.In this regard, he was teaching Jill, but she had to perfect her understanding of Martian before she could become proficient in it.Don't worry, just wait, this problem will always be solved.Pat continued:
"I want you to see what faith can do. But the real change is within. Joy. God knows I don't have the gift of speech, but I'll do my best to tell you. First, you have to be aware of everything else called All churches are traps for the devil. Our dear Jesus preached the true faith, Frost said so, and I believe it. But in the dark ages, his words have been twisted so that Jesus himself did not recognize it came out. That's why First was sent to proclaim the new revelation, to make the words of Jesus reappear." Patricia Pivinsky pointed a finger to the top of her head, as if suddenly transformed into a priestess, wrapped in holy In dignity, "God wants us to be happy. He's filled the world with things that make us happy. If God didn't want us to drink and be merry, would he turn grape juice into wine? He could just leave it alone... Or turn it into vinegar, who gets a little fun out of vinegar? Doesn't he? Of course he doesn't want us to get drunk, beat our wives, neglect our kids... He gives us good things to use, Not to abuse. When with friends who see the light, if you want to drink it a glass or two, three or four, makes you want to dance and thank the Lord for His mercy - why not? God created He made the wine and he made the feet - he made them so you could put them together and be happy!"
She paused, "Refill it, sweetheart; preaching is a thirsty job—less ginger beer this time, the whiskey is good. And if God doesn't want women to be looked at Well, he could make them ugly--that's logical, isn't it? God doesn't cheat; the rules of the game are set by Himself--He doesn't play tricks so that the idiots can't always win, as if the crooks were It's the same tricks that are played on the stalls. If the game is not fair, even if someone loses, God will not send him to hell.
"Well, God wants us to be happy and has told us how to be happy: 'Love each other!' If a snake needs love, love the poor little one. Love your neighbor...slap for Satan Keep the corruptors sent, lest they tempt you off the way God has prepared, and lead you into the abyss. And this 'love' is not the love of a phony spinster who dare not lift his eyes from the hymn-book for fear of seeing The temptation of the flesh. If God hates the flesh, why did He create so many? God is not a sissy. He created the Grand Canyon and the comets in the sky, and the hurricanes and stallions and earthquakes - all that God hasn't seen it? Can a girl tease a guy and a man look at a woman to make him turn his back and pee his pants? Surely you wouldn't have such a silly idea, dear--me too! God wants us When it comes to love, he's serious and doesn't hold anything back. Love the babies who are always in diapers, and love the sweaty hunks to make more babies to love - and keep going in between To love, because love is awesome!
"Of course, this is not to let you go casually, as if the bottle of whiskey does not mean that I will drink a drunk and run away. The price tag... If you think they have a price, the gates of hell are opened. But if you open your heart, give what you can, and accept God's endless gifts, the devil can't lift a finger. Money?" She looked at Jill, "My dear, I'll give you one million to share the water with someone like you did just now. What are you doing? Or ten million? You don't pay taxes."
"Of course not." ("Michael, are you enlightened?")
("Almost fully realized, Jill. Be patient.")
"See, dear? I know that there is love in that water. You are both seekers, and you are very close to the light. Now that you two 'share the water and grow closer' through the love in your heart, I can tell you something , usually cannot be told to ordinary seekers—”
Reverend Foster's ordination was his own, and it could be said that he was ordained by God—depending on which side you are citing.He has a natural intuition for the pulse of his era, which is more accurate than the eyes of a veteran who is looking at a fool.The civilization called "America" has always had a split personality.Its laws are puritanical; its private ways are inclined; its chief religion is pure; its popular entertainment is almost pure.Nowhere on earth in the twentieth century (according to Earth's chronology) was sexual oppression as severe as America's — and nowhere was there as much interest in sex.
Forster has two things in common with every religious leader on that planet: one is that he is extremely charismatic, and the other is that when it comes to sex, he has left human rules far and wide.All religious leaders on the planet are either celibate or run counter to celibacy.First is not celibate.
Neither were his wives and priestesses.The rebirth steps of the New Revelation include a unique ritual especially appropriate for growing closeness.
The same technique has been used by many denominations throughout Earth's history, but it had never been practiced on a large scale in America before Foster's time.Although he was expelled more than once, First continued to improve his methods, and finally allowed his ram stallion teaching to flourish.He drew on Masonicism, Catholicism, and Madison Avenue, just as he drew on the classics of his predecessors to create the New Revelation Bible.He sugarcoats it, masquerading as a return to Christian fundamentals.He created peripheral churches that anyone could join, and intermediate churches that uninformed outsiders would think were "New Revelation Churches."It was full of happy converts, who paid tithes, enjoyed all the benefits of the church's ever-expanding business, and celebrated in an endless orgy: merry, merry, merry!Their sins are forgiven. (Then again, as long as they support their church, are honest in their dealings with fellow church brethren, and condemn sinners and stay happy, there are very few acts that count as sins for them.) The new revelations do Sexuality is not particularly encouraged, but when sexual issues are discussed, it is always rather mysterious.
The Middle Church also produces commandos.Foster borrowed this trick from the industrial unions of the early twentieth century; if a community tried to suppress the Foster movement, Fosterists flocked to that town from all directions until the jail and police were too much to hold back ——Tiaozi was kicked all over the ground looking for teeth, and the prison was smashed to pieces.
Even if there is any prosecutor who is ignorant and insists on prosecuting, he will not be able to succeed.First (through lessons learned in the fire) will dig to the letter of the law to demonstrate that such prosecutions are in fact biased persecution.Neither in the U.S. Supreme Court nor later in the Federal Supreme Court, no Fosterist has ever been convicted as a Christian.
Within the public church is the core church—a strong core of people who are wholeheartedly dedicated to the church.They are priests, lay leaders, administrators and policy makers of the Church.They have been "reborn", freed from the entanglement of sin, have a fixed place in heaven, and are the only people who know the core secrets.
Foster chose this group of people with great care, initially doing everything himself, until the work became too onerous for others.He wants men like himself, and women like his priest-wives—vibrant, convinced, unrepentant, and free (at least once freed from guilt and insecurity) Afterwards, the ability to not be at the mercy of most of the envy of) mankind.All of them are strong men and beautiful women who hope to be promoted to gods and gods.In a word, First's core church is exactly the Dionysian religion that the United States lacks, and the market potential is huge.
He is very cautious.If the candidate is married, both spouses must qualify.Unmarried candidates must be sexually attractive and aggressive.He also repeatedly emphasized that the number of men in the clergy must be equal to or exceed that of women.There is no record that Foster studied similar denominations in early America, but he either knew or felt that most of them capsized because the priest's sexual possessiveness led to jealousy.Foster never made that mistake once; he never monopolized any women, not even the ones he married.
In addition, he is in no rush to expand the inner circle; the middle church produces enough to meet the little needs of the public.If a religious orgy can provide two couples worthy of "heavenly marriage", First will be satisfied.If there was no pair, he let the seeds germinate, and sent a pair of experienced priests and priestesses to train them.
Whenever possible, he always brought a priestess with him to test the candidate couples himself.Such a couple has already been "saved" in the middle church, so he has almost no risk-it should be said that it is absolutely safe in terms of women, but for men, First always weighs in advance before letting his priestess go up .
Before being saved, Patricia Pivinsky was a young married woman and "very happy."She has a child with a much older husband who enjoys her admiration and admiration.Generous and affectionate to his wife, George Pivinsky had only one flaw—but that flaw often made him too drunk to be affectionate to his wife.Pat considers herself a lucky woman.Yes, sometimes George gets a little too affectionate with one of the female customers...if it's early in the day and George isn't drunk, it might turn out to be quite affectionate.The problem is, tattoos require privacy, especially for women.Pat was very forgiving.Later, George spent more and more time with the bottle, so Pat herself would now and then have a date with a male customer or something.
But something was missing in her life.A grateful customer gave her a snake — he said he would be uprooted and unable to keep it.But the snake still failed to fill the void in her heart.But Pat loves pets and doesn't have a snake phobia; she made him a home in their window, and George made a beautiful four-colour picture of him: "Don't step on me!" very popular.
She bought more snakes and they brought her comfort.One of her parents was from Northern Ireland, the other from; a pact between her parents not to discuss religious matters left her without the opportunity to acquire any religious affiliation.
When Furst came to San Pedro to preach, she was already a "seeker"; she also managed to get George to attend a few services, but he did not see the light.
First brought light to them, and they made a confession together.When Foster left six months later, the Pivinskis were so devout that Foster himself noticed them.
“从乔治看到光明的那天起，我再没遇上过一分钟的麻烦。”她告诉吉尔和迈克，“他没戒酒……但只在教堂喝，而且也不多。我们神圣的领袖回来时，乔治已经开始了他的大计划，着手在我的身体上文下神圣的图画。我们自然想让弗斯特看看——”派文斯基夫人有些犹豫，“孩子们，我不该告诉你们这些。”
“那就别说。”吉尔真诚地说，“帕特亲爱的，我们永远不愿你做任何于心不安的事。'分享水'必须是轻松愉快的。”
“唔……可我实在想说啊！但你们得记住，这是教会的事儿，—定不能告诉其他人……就好像我不会跟别人说起你们一样。”
迈克点点头，“在地球这儿，我们管它叫'水兄弟的私事'。在火星上从来没有这个问题……但我灵悟到这里有时候不一样。这是'水兄弟之间的事'，我们不会外传。”
“我……我'灵悟'了。真是个有趣儿的词，我会学起来的。好吧，亲爱的，这是'水兄弟之间的事'。你们知道吗，所有弗斯特教徒都有文身？我是说真正的教会成员，那些永永远远得救的人——比如说我。哦，并不是说全身都文上，不过——看见没？就在我的心脏上头？那就是弗斯特的圣吻。乔治让它看上去好像是一幅图的一部分……这样其他人就不会猜到什么了。但这是他的吻——而且是弗斯特本人亲自印下的一吻！”她似乎沉醉在狂热的骄傲中。
他们仔细瞧了瞧。“真的是吻痕，”吉尔惊奇地说，“就好像有个抹口红的人在那儿吻了一下。我本来以为那是日落的一部分呢。”
“没错，正是这样，乔治就是这么设计的。因为你不能把弗斯特之吻给没有弗斯特之吻的人看——我从没那么做过，直到今天。不过，”她坚持说，“总有一天，你们也会有的，你们俩——到时候，我想为你们文上它。”
吉尔道：“我不明白，帕特。他怎么能吻我们呢？毕竟他已经——已经上天堂了。”
“没错，亲爱的，他去了天堂。让我跟你解释解释。任何男女祭司都可以给你弗斯特之吻。它意味着上帝在你心中，上帝是你的—部分……直到永远。”
迈克突然变得热切起来，“你是上帝！”
“啊，迈克尔？呃——我从没听谁这么讲过。但它的确表达了这层意思……上帝在你之内、从你而来、与你同在，魔鬼无法接近。”
“是的，”迈克赞同地说，“你灵悟了上帝。”他高高兴兴地想到，能把这个概念传达到这种程度，这还是头一次呢……当然，吉尔除外，她正在学习火星语，自然会逐步领会这层意思。
“就是这话，迈克尔。上帝……灵悟了你——而你也在神圣的爱和永恒的快乐中同他的教会结合在一起。祭司吻过你之后，吻痕被文上，作为永远的彰显。倒不一定要这么大——我的这一个嘛，大小、样式都很精确，同弗斯特那圣洁的嘴唇一模一样。你可以把它文在任何地方，以防被罪人的眼睛看见。任何隐蔽的地方。参加永生得救者的快乐集会时，你可以把它展示给大家。”
“我听说过快乐集会，”吉尔评论道，“不过一直没弄明白它们究竟什么样。”
“嗯，”派文斯基夫人解释说，“我们有不同的快乐集会，完全不同。有一种是为那些已经得救、但还可能倒退的成员准备的，那种挺好玩的——无数人参加的大聚会，让人快乐的祈祷只有一点点，更多的是热热闹闹的庆祝，好让聚会有声有色。或许还有一丁点真正的爱——但对象什么的你可得好好考虑清楚，因为你绝不能在兄弟中播下纠纷的种子。教会的各种规矩可严着呢。”
“永生得救者的快乐集会嘛——嗯，在那儿就没必要缩手缩脚了，因为在那儿谁都不会犯罪——罪已经是过去的事儿了。要是你想喝个酩酊大醉……好吧，这是上帝的旨意，否则你也不会有这念头。你想跪下祈祷，或者高声歌唱——又或者扯烂衣服，手舞足蹈；这都是上帝的旨意。在那儿，绝不会有任何人觉得那有什么不对的。”
“听上去真不错。”吉尔道。
“哦，没错——从来如此！而且天堂的祝福充盈全身。假如你早上醒来，发现自己同一个永生得救的兄弟躺在一起，那也是上帝的旨意，因为他想让你们大家幸福快乐。他们都有弗斯特之吻——他们属于你。”她若有所思地皱皱眉头，“这感觉跟'分享水'有些类似。你们明白吗？”
“我灵悟了。”迈克道。
（“迈克？？？？？）
（“等待，吉尔。等待完满。”）
“但是，”帕特丽夏认真地说，“千万别以为靠一个印记就能混进核心教会的快乐集会。每一个到访的兄弟或者姐妹——那，就拿我来说吧，一弄清马戏团下一步准备去哪儿，我就给当地的教会写信，并且寄去我的指纹，他们会把它跟保存在天使长弗斯特礼拜堂里的永生得救者档案做比对。我告诉他们我的地址，他们则告诉我跟我最近的教堂的地址。然后，当我去教堂的时候——我每个星期天都去，从没错过一次快乐集会，哪怕耽误提姆的压轴戏——他们就能确认我的身份。他们很欢迎我；我神圣的图画独一无二、无可匹敌，能为集会增光添彩。我经常任大家上来仔细鉴赏，就这么度过一个晚上……每一分钟都是无上的幸福。有时祭司会让我带上甜面包，演出夏娃和蛇。当然，我得全身上下化好装，还有位兄弟扮演亚当。我们被赶出伊甸园，然后祭司会解释其中的真正涵义，不是那些扭曲的谎言。最后是大团圆，我们重获失去的纯真。到这时，聚会可就热闹了。那才叫乐呢！”
她又补充道：“每个人都对我的弗斯特之吻感兴趣……因为他二十年前就回了天堂，所以大多数人的吻都是由祭司代理的。这方面，有礼拜堂为我作证。而且我会告诉他们当时的情况。唔——”
派文斯基夫人稍一迟疑，随即便详详细细地告诉了他们每个细节。吉尔不由得有些奇怪，她那点子害臊的能力都哪儿去了？然后她灵悟到，迈克和帕特都是一类人，他们是上帝无瑕的儿女，无论干了什么，都不可能犯下任何罪过。为了帕特的缘故，她真希望弗斯特是个神圣的先知，一个拯救了她、领她进入永福的人。
弗斯特！这么个家伙居然成了圣人，真是太滑稽了，天理难容！
靠着大大增强的记忆力，吉尔突然回到了那间有大玻璃墙的房间，又一次注视着弗斯特死气沉沉的眼睛，但他似乎活过来了……吉尔打了个寒战。假如弗斯特要赐予她神圣的一吻——外加他那神圣的自己——她会怎么办？
她把这念头从脑子里赶了出去，但迈克已经捕捉到了。她感到他带着无所不知的纯洁微微一笑。
吉尔站起身来，“帕特丽夏亲爱的，你什么时候回营地？”
“噢，天哪！上帝保佑，现在就该动身了！”
“为什么？不是九点半钟才出发吗？”
“唔……可甜面包想我了。我在外头待太晚，它会妒忌的。”
“跟它说你去参加快乐集会了不行吗？”
“啊……”年长些的女人搂住吉尔，“没错！这正是一个快乐集会！”
“很好。我要去睡了，我困了。你要在什么时候起床？”
“唔，如果我八点之前回去，可以让山姆帮我拆掉帐篷，还有时间让人把我的宝贝儿们安安全全地装上车。”
“早饭呢？”
“在火车上吃。平时起床的时候我只喝杯咖啡。”
“我在这儿煮咖啡。亲爱的，你爱睡多久就睡多久；我不会让你睡过头的，不过我估计你不会睡。迈克从来不睡。”
“—点也不睡？”
“从不。他常常蜷起来思考一阵——但他不睡觉。”
派文斯基夫人庄严地点点头，“这是另一个征兆。我知道——迈克尔，总有一天你也会知道的——上帝会召唤你。”
“也许。”吉尔随声附和，“迈克，我困极了。送我上床好吗？她浮了起来，飘进卧室，床单自动掀开——她睡着了。
七点钟，吉尔醒了过来。她溜下床，脑袋探进隔壁的房间。灯光早已熄灭，窗帘也拉上了，但他们都醒着。吉尔听见迈克轻柔而坚定地说：
“你是上帝——”
“'你是上帝——'”帕特丽夏悄声道，她的声音低沉，仿佛被催眠了一般。
“是的。吉尔是上帝。”
“吉尔……是上帝。是的，迈克尔。”
“你也是上帝。”
“你——是上帝！来呀，迈克尔，快！”
吉尔悄悄走开，先去刷牙，然后通知迈克自己醒了，却发现他已经知道了。等她回到起居室的时候，阳光已涌入房间。“早上好，亲爱的！”她吻了他们。
“你是上帝。”帕特简简单单地回应道。
“是的，帕特。你也是上帝。上帝在我们所有人之中。”她在耀眼的晨光中打量着帕特，发现她没有一丝疲劳的样子。没错，她知道这种效果。如果迈克想让吉尔整晚不睡，她就会整晚不睡，而且毫不疲倦。她怀疑自己昨晚的瞌睡是迈克的主意……并且听见迈克在他心里肯定了她的想法。
“来点儿咖啡，亲爱的。我正好还有橘子汁。”
早餐很简单，他们吃下的是满满的快乐。吉尔看见帕特若有所思的表情。 "What's the matter, dear?"
“唔，我真不愿提起这个。可你们这些孩子准备靠什么吃饭呢？帕特姑妈倒有个胀鼓鼓的小金库，所以我想——”
吉尔哈哈大笑，“噢，亲爱的帕特，我不该笑。但是火星来客富着呢！这你肯定知道吧？”
派文斯基夫人有些不知所措，“唔，我猜我知道，可我不大相信新闻上的玩意儿。”
“帕特，你真可爱。相信我，既然我们已经是水兄弟，我们是不会客气的——'分享巢'不是诗意的意象。不过，这话得倒过来说。如果你什么时候需要钱，只管说一声。任何数目、任何时间。给我们写信——不，打电话给我更方便；迈克对钱一丁点概念也没有。说真的，亲爱的，这会儿我名下就有几十万。想要些吗？”
派文斯基夫人似乎吓了一跳，“上帝保佑！我不需要钱。”
吉尔耸耸肩，“什么时候要，说一声就成。如果你想要艘游艇，迈克会很乐意送你一艘的。”
“我肯定会的，帕特。我还从没见过游艇呢。”派文斯基夫人摇摇头，“别净把我往高处推，孩子们——我想要的只是你们的爱——“
“你已经有了。”吉尔告诉她。
“我没灵'爱'，”迈克说，“但吉尔的话总是对的。假如我们有爱，它就是你的。”
“——还有你们得救的消息。不过我已经不再为这个担心了。迈克告诉了我如何等待，为何等待。你理解吗，吉尔？”
“我灵悟。我对任何事情都不再焦虑了。”
“但我还是有些东西要给你们俩。”文身女士从提包里拿出一本书，“我亲爱的……这就是圣弗斯特给我的那本《新启示》……就在他将吻印在我心上的那晚。我想把它给你们。”
吉尔的眼中充满了泪水，“可是，帕特姑妈——帕特我们的兄弟！我们绝不能接受。我们会去买一本的。”
“不。这是……是我与你们分享的'水'。为了增长亲近。”
“噢——！”吉尔跳了起来，“我们会分享它的。现在，它属于我们——属于我们所有人。”她吻了帕特。
迈克敲敲她的肩膀，“贪心的小兄弟，该我了。”
“我会永远这样子贪下去。”
火星来客先吻了新兄弟的嘴唇，然后又吻了弗斯特吻过的地方。他琢磨着在另一边挑个地方，好跟乔治的设计相配——按照地球的时间其实不过是一小会儿，他一面吻，一面延展时间感，考虑各种细节。有必要灵悟毛细血管——
在其他两人眼里，他只是用嘴唇碰了碰皮肤。但吉尔感应到了，“帕特！看哪！”
派文斯基夫人低下头。她的皮肤出现了一块血红色，正是迈克的唇印。她差点昏倒。“是的。是的！迈克尔——”
没过多久，文身女士变回了穿高领长袖戴手套的乏味主妇。“我不会哭泣，”她庄重地说，“在永恒里也没有离别。我会等着你们。”她吻过他们，头也不回地离开了。
Notes:
Notes: