XIV
I stood still, wondering whether I should try charging into the cellar. But for what purpose? I dropped the guns and walked to the cellar steps. 'What help?' I asked.
'There have been complications.'
I looked down into the darkness, into the cold, ice-walled hole which was His home, and I tried to keep from thinking about the shapeless thing that rested down there. 'What complications?' I asked.
'Come down. We have much to talk about, the two of us. Come down here where we can do it more easily.'
'No,' I said.
'What?' He sounded perplexed, as if He did not know what I was talking about, could not fathom why I would refuse Him.
'Why did you try to kill me?' I asked.
'It was not me.'
'I saw you,' I said. 'You knew me by name. You even read my mind.'
'That is what I want to talk to you about. Come down.'
'You'll kill me.'
'And I could just as easily kill you where you are standing,' He said. 'There would be no necessity to have you in the cellar to kill you. Now quit this nonsense and come down here. You know damn well I would not harm you.'
It did not make sense. If it had not been Him, who had it been in the tubeways? I had seen the creature chasing me, had seen the face-and the feet that had changed into tough plates to trod down the sensory cilia. That had not been my imagination. I had the cuts and bruises to prove it had all really happened. Yet, somehow, and for some unknown reason, I believed Him now. He would not kill me. Surely, He was as good as He said. I opened the cellar door and went down the steps, turning the light on when I passed the switch.
He was in the same form as before, perhaps a bit larger. Although He had no eyes, but a prismatic ball set in a fold of flesh, I knew He was watching me intently. Although there were no apparent ears on His body, I knew He was listening. I stopped before Him, half expecting a death blow from a pseudopod, half hoping there really was some explanation for His recent behavior. 'How did you know about my being chased? You say it wasn't you, and yet-'
'You're upset, Jacob. You're not thinking. I read your mind when you pulled up outside, of course.'
'That doesn't matter,' I said. 'Let's get on with it. If that wasn't you back there in the tubeways, and if that wasn't you that shot at me and broke into my apartment, who was it?'
He hesitated.
'It was you, wasn't it,' I said.
'Not exactly.'
'Then tell me, damn it!'
'I'm trying to think how best to phrase it,' He said.
I waited.
Later He said, 'It was the Devil, Jacob.'
'The Devil?' He was joking with me, I thought. He was leading me on, laughing quietly at me, getting me primed for the moment when He would strike me down.
'I am not going to strike you down!' He said, slightly exasperated.
'And I'm supposed to take you seriously when you tell me it is the Devil that has been chasing me, the Devil in your form?'
'Wait,' He said. He was quiet for a time, then spoke again, His tone designed to be even more soothing and convincing than usual. 'I have made a mistake. I have been couching all of my explanations in terms that you would more easily understand. I implied that I was your God, thus letting you fall back on your standard religious theories. You are what-Christian? Jewish?'
'My father was Jewish, my mother Christian. I was raised by a Christian. If I am anything-and sometimes I have my doubts-I am a Christian. But I still don't see what you are getting at.'
'Forget what I said about being God. Forget what I said about your being chased by the Devil.'
'Forgotten.'
'I'll try to explain this in more realistic terms, with less emotional and romantic trappings than religious theories possess. First, it is true that I am the creature- or a facet of the creature-that created this universe, one of many universes. The why for this, I cannot convey to you. It is on an aesthetic level that you could not begin to conceive of. I wrought the matter of the universe, set into motion the patterns and laws and processes that formed the solar systems. I did not take a direct hand in the evolution of life, for the aesthetic values of creation are in the monumental forces of universe-making, not in the creation of life, which will happen anyway if you do a good job on the making of the universe itself.'
'You are saying that you are merely another living creature-admittedly on a different plane of existence- and that you created a universe where there was, previously, nothing.'
'Not just void,' He corrected me. 'Chaos. The basic forces were there. I had but to enlarge upon them and order them.'
'I'll accept that much,' I said. 'I had already accepted the fact that you were God. This is only a variation.'
I sat down on the bottom cellar step, a little less apprehensive, but still not happy. 'But why did you come to us? You've been content, you say, to let life develop by itself. You said you weren't interested in the evolution of life, but only in the artistic value of ordering and setting the universe into motion.'
'I didn't say I wasn't interested. I just said that the evolution of life is secondary to the larger and more beautiful work of the universe in toto. Believe me, Jacob, there is much more of beauty in the singing of the galaxies, in the patterns of multi-galactic revolution and rotation, than there can ever be in the life of a single creature, even a creature with the intelligence of your species. But your species, after all, is a part of my creation. To ignore it would be tantamount to not caring about the exactness of my creation. For example, a painter may do a hundred-foot mural, a thing of grand scale. But that does not mean that he will not be exasperated if only one square inch of the canvas is ineptly done. He will, instead, be more concerned with that single badly done square inch than with the entire hundreds of square feet that are done well.'
I thought a moment. 'You are saying, then, that man, my species, is that flaw on your great canvas, that one square inch that somehow did not turn out right.'
'No,' He said. 'You are not even equal to one- square inch in this universe. There are many races that have evolved into flawed species. When I am finished here, I will go to other places. Indeed, other facets of me are working on other races at this very moment. Remember, what you see before you is only a small fragment of me, less than one millionth of my sum personality and power.'
He was not leading me on. What He was saying should have struck a false note, should have seemed unreal, but it was delivered with such assurance and in such a level tone that I knew what He said was perfectly true. 'But why enter our world in the form of the android? That seems so roundabout.'
'Try to picture me, Jacob. I am not just big, not just huge, but vast. Only part of my intellect, part of my life power, can be introduced into your world at once. Otherwise, the balance of this arm of the universe would be upset. And even this minor part of me is not easily insinuated into your world. It must assume a living presence, yet it would not be possible to contain it in a human child. The nerves, the brain cells, would burn out if I tried to house my life power in human flesh.'
'But the android is suitable?'
'Because I can shape it,' He said. 'I can restructure it like putty. The android's flesh is quite different, as you know, from real flesh. I can adapt its nervous system to contain my life energy. It was the only door into your world that I could find.'
'And so you came to us through the android. Why?'
'As I have said before, to help you. You have not evolved along standard lines. Most species, at your race's age, would be able to control its body, its aging. Most species would be immortal and nearly invulnerable. I have
