folded in her lap, meditating.
Although Feldman was quiet in his approach, no sooner did he draw next to her than she spoke. “Good morning, Jon,” she said, her eyes still closed.
“Good morning, Jeza,” he replied. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. And you?”
“Well frankly, I'm having rather unusual dreams these days. It doesn't make for peaceful sleep.”
She opened her eyes and evaluated him soberly. “This is not a time for peaceful sleep,” she said, and removed her earphones.
Feldman decided the Messiah was in a mood to talk this morning. “May I join you?” he asked.
She nodded and he sat down expectantly in the seat next to her. “Well,” he started, not really knowing where to begin, “yesterday was quite a day for you.”
“Yes,” she said. “And now we must prepare for yet another important day. You are making arrangements for me to meet with the sovereign of the Roman Catholic Church?”
“That's in the works,” Feldman answered. “Needless to say, WNN will be delighted to sponsor that trip, too. Our people are in direct contact with all three papal representatives at the convocation. We're hopeful of scheduling a meeting in two weeks, Sunday, March 19, if that's acceptable to you.”
“Yes, I thank you,” she said, appreciatively.
Since she appeared a willing conversationalist at the moment, Feldman hoped to shed some light on a few topical questions.
“Jeza,” he ventured, “do you know that your comments yesterday caused a great deal of unrest in the world? Particularly your prophecies about Armageddon. Many people are extremely upset. Some have even committed suicide.”
“Know that the future would bring far more deaths and suffering without my warnings,” she replied, some sternness edging her voice.
“Can you do nothing to prevent this Apocalypse from taking place?” Feldman refused to be discouraged from his line of questioning. “Can't you just call it off? Forgive the people and give them another chance?” He was patronizing her, hoping to extract a more conciliatory statement that might help ease global tensions. “Isn't that what Christianity is all about?”
“This is not of my will, nor of the Father's making,” she responded. “What is to be is a conspiracy of man. Come of man's failure to hear the Word. The stubbornness and arrogance of man turn the truth such that good becomes evil and evil, good. Just as an infection of the body must rupture to purge its poison, so must this festering wound be lanced that it may be cleansed and healed.”
This simile did not sit well with Feldman before breakfast. On the spur of the moment, and with considerable reservations, he decided it was time to brave a precarious topic-the same issue he'd almost broached on their flight over, but had decided not to chance prior to the convocation. However, in the face of the current, tumultuous global conditions, he felt the gamble was worth taking.
“Jeza,” he asked, gingerly, “what are your earliest memories of yourself?”
She looked thoughtful. “My earliest memory is my first moment of awareness, the night of the white light and trembling earth when the Father breathed into me my soul, and delivered unto me His message.”
“Do you know anything about your parents?” Feldman asked. “Where you came from?”
“I issue from God and man,” she said.
“Do you recall an explosion, Jeza, or perhaps a big fire
“No,” she said, looking casually out the window.
Feldman could not get a read on her. There was no emotion in her answers.
“Do you recall being found injured in a desert by a Bedouin couple?”
“No.”
Feldman paused, reflected, and decided to try a different approach. “Jeza, you seem to have a great deal of knowledge about things with which you've never come in contact. Do you have any idea how you arrived at such knowledge?”
She turned back to face him. “All that I know comes from the Father,” she replied.
Feldman pondered his next move carefully. His calculated intent here was to confront Jeza with the reality of her origins, and he fully appreciated the inherent hazards in this gambit. Regardless of how distasteful the exercise might be, it was his job. As a journalist, he had to seek out the truth.
He looked down at her angelic, childlike-yet-wise face as she stared intently up at him. An apprehensive crease appeared on her brow, as if she were anticipating him.
He opened his mouth, and then suddenly hesitated. For whatever reason, he simply could not bring himself to tell her who she really was. Exhaling, he blinked and turned away, disappointed at his sudden cowardice. He searched his mind, unsuccessfully, for an explanation. Perhaps he too readily recalled how his own personal world was once similarly destroyed. He abruptly changed the subject.
“Jeza, how is it that your eyes have such an effect on people? Just by staring at someone, you seem to be able to render them light-headed and disoriented.”
“God looks at people through my eyes,” she explained, simply. “And I see into their souls. I know their hearts.”
In demonstration, she focused intently on Feldman, and once more, he underwent that familiar, discomfiting sensation of utter invasion, confusion and vulnerability. His soul lay naked before her. His cheeks reddened with embarrassment.
Her eyes slowly widened, and then narrowed with her presumed insight. Sadly she murmured, “Behold the child who has borne the parents!”
Her face softened as she looked through him. She took his hands gently in hers. “Know that the parent is responsible for the child, and not the child its parent. For you to have the capacity for mature love, your heart must first be emptied of its callow burdens.”
A bell in the compartment sounded and a crewman's voice announced takeoff in twenty minutes. Interrupted, the Messiah dropped her thoughtful gaze and the hands of her flustered companion.
Badly shaken, Feldman hurriedly excused himself and returned unsteadily to his cabin. Inside, he shut the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily.
He simply did not know what to make of this strange woman. There was a great warmth, a feeling of powerful humanity that issued from her, drawing him irresistibly to her. And yet, this messianic power that she wielded, this spell that she cast over people, it troubled him deeply. He could not understand or reconcile the contradictory attraction and anxiety her extraordinary abilities summoned within him.
75
Palace of the Sanctum Officium, Vatican City, Rome, Italy 11:51 A.M., Tuesday, March 7, 2000
The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, with the pope himself presiding, had been in an uproar all morning. Although heated arguments had often wandered far afield from the main topic-the proposed Jeza visit-on that particular issue, the Congregation appeared irreconcilably divided.
A learned, elderly cardinal from Latvia argued passionately, “A meeting with this fanatical mystic is unthinkable! Impossible! It becomes a confrontation of supremacy, pitting our Holy Father against this parvenue charlatan in a public opinion contest over who has the greater divine authority. It is degrading.”
A stalwart Franciscan cardinal stood to offer his concurrence. “Consider the implications: simply allowing the woman to come here serves to legitimize her. We must not sanctify her fear mongering, nor should we reduce the sacred Basilica of Saint Peter to the level of a Mormon Tabernacle.”
Another cardinal, a Jesuit from Malaysia, embraced the entire assembly with a gesture of his arms. “This misguided, self-proclaimed Messiah is anathema to Holy Mother Church and to all organized religion. Look at the calamity she has brought upon us. All over the world, our dioceses are in shambles. Our support and contributions
