“By whom, may I ask, were you initiated?”
“A man-a Native American. We call him Friday.”
“You knew this fellow well, did you?”
“Not well, no. We worked together sometimes, is all. He was a member of an archaeological dig that I was- that I am — involved with in Arizona.” She thought a moment. “But I don’t think you could call it an initiation at all,” she said. “I followed him into a canyon near the site one day and… it just happened.”
Brendan sipped his tea. “That must have been something of a shock for you.”
“It was,” Cass agreed. “It still is. I don’t even know how I ended up here.”
“You have a gift-or have been given one,” said Rosemary. “Either way, it amounts to the same thing in the end. You are now an astral traveller.”
“I like the term inter-dimensional explorer,” put in Brendan, “because it carries no unfortunate occult overtones. You simply cannot imagine the amount of blather and nonsense that has crept into the subject over the years.”
“And always, it seems, by people who do not know the first thing about it,” Mrs. Peelstick said, extending a plate of tiny, round sesame-seed-and pistachio biscuits. “Try one; they are delicious.”
“Much of that nonsense is useful, of course,” observed Brendan, his Irish lilt dancing, “for it obfuscates the subject sufficiently to protect our work.”
“Protect it?” wondered Cass. “Why does your work need protecting?”
“This would merely be a somewhat arcane, not to mention foolhardy, pursuit if it did not serve a far greater purpose,” Brendan told her. “It is not too much to say that the future of humankind may depend on the work of the society. We are engaged in a project of such importance to humankind that its success will usher in the final consummation of the universe.”
“Gosh!” remarked Cass; to her embarrassment it sounded like sarcasm, which she had not intended.
Brendan paused, gauging her receptiveness to hear what came next. “I suppose it does sound a little overblown,” he admitted, “but it is true nonetheless. In short, the Zetetic Society was formed to offer aid and support to our members who are engaged in a very particular project. Our aim is nothing less than achieving God’s own purpose for His creation.”
“And what purpose would that be?” Again, Cass hoped her response was not an offense to these kind and hospitable-and probably delusional-people.
Mrs. Peelstick fielded the question. “Why, the objective manifestation of the supreme values of goodness, beauty, and truth, grounded in the infinite love and goodness of the Creator,” she concluded, her tone suggesting that this should be obvious.
“Human beings are not a trivial by-product of the universe,” Brendan continued. “Rather, we-you, me, everyone else-all humankind is the reason the cosmos was created in the first place.”
“I am familiar with the anthropic principle,” Cass replied. It was a favourite hobbyhorse of her father. “The theory that the universe was designed to bring about human life-that the universe exists not only for us, but because of us.”
“Succinctly put,” commended Brendan. “You do know your cosmology.”
“My dad is an astrophysicist.” Cass lifted a shoulder diffidently. “I might have picked up a few things.”
“We go further,” said Mrs. Peelstick. “We extend the principle to say that the universe was conceived and created as a place to grow and perfect independent conscious agents and fit them for eternity.”
“Independent conscious agents,” echoed Cass softly. “Human beings, you mean.”
“Yes, dear-human beings.”
“Why, one might ask?” said Brendan. “What is the aim, the purpose for such an elaborate scheme?”
“That,” Cass suggested, “is where all the controversy begins.”
“Truly,” agreed Brendan. “Our view is that the aim of the process of creating all these independent conscious agents is to promote the formation of harmonious communities of self-aware individuals capable of knowing and enjoying the Creator, and joining in the ongoing creation of the cosmos.” He paused, then added with a shrug, “In a nutshell.”
Cass bit her lip. This sort of talk always made her uneasy: the grand claims of visionaries, charlatans, and madmen sounded very much alike to her. She had had a bellyful of that in Sedona, and before that from various cranks with whom her father had, at one time or another in his career, chosen to entertain. She was fed up with their quasi-scientific and irrational beliefs.
“I see we’re confusing you,” Brendan observed. “Perhaps we should start again.” He bent his head in thought, pressing his fingertips together beneath his chin. Then, brightening suddenly, he asked, “Have you ever heard of the Omega Point?”
“Not as such,” Cass replied. She searched her memory, then shook her head. “No.”
“The Omega Point is conceived as the end of time and the beginning of eternity, the point at which the purpose of the universe is finally and fully realised. When the universe reaches the point where more people desire the union, harmony, and fulfilment intended by the Creator, then the balance will have been tipped, so to speak, and the cosmos will proceed to the Omega Point-that is, its final consummation. The universe will be transformed into an incorruptible, everlasting reality of supreme goodness.”
“Heaven, in other words,” Cass concluded.
“Yes, but not another realm or world,” corrected Mrs. Peelstick. “ This world, this universe, transfigured-the New Heaven and the New Earth. It will be a place of eternal celebration of God’s love and goodness where we will live and work to achieve the full potential for which humanity was created.”
“Which is?” wondered Cass, acutely aware that she had managed to sound sarcastic again.
Mrs. Peelstick returned her wondering glance as if to say, Don’t you know?
“I’m not trying to be difficult,” blurted Cass. “I’d really like to hear your theory.”
“Human destiny,” replied Mrs. Peelstick, “lies in the mastery of the cosmos for the purpose of creating new experiences of goodness, beauty, and truth for all living things.”
“And,” added Brendan quickly, “extending those values into the rest of the universe at large. You see, the universe as it exists now is but Phase One, you might say-it is where living human souls are generated and learn the conditions of consciousness and independence. The ultimate fulfilment of the lives so generated, however, will only be found in the next phase of creation-a transformation we can hardly imagine.”
Cass shook her head. Clearly, she had paddled into deep water- but what did any of it have to do with inter- dimensional travel or, come to that, with her?
“The quest for the Skin Map is merely the beginning,” said Mrs. Peelstick. “But there is so much more.”
“The Skin Map?” wondered Cass.
“Has no one mentioned that?” asked Brendan.
Cass shook her head. “Not in so many words.”
“Well then, I will tell you a story, shall I? Many years ago a man named Arthur Flinders-Petrie-”
Mrs. Peelstick put up a hand. “Please, spare the poor girl.”
“Mrs. P. has heard all this a time or two before,” Brendan confided.
“Yes, and I don’t need to hear it again now.” She gave them both a sunny smile. “If you two will excuse me, I am going to pick up some things at the grocer’s-and if you will take my advice, you will get out and enjoy this beautiful day. Cass has never seen Damascus. Why not show her around the Old Quarter, Brendan?”
“That is a splendid idea, Rosemary. I’ll do just that.”
“Good.” Rosemary started away. “Don’t wear her out with your ramblings, Brendan-you know how you are- and try not to be too late. I’ll have a nice supper ready when you return.”
CHAPTER 22
The journey to Black Mixen Tump always filled Charles Flinders-Petrie with dread. Although the gentle hills of the Cotswold countryside appeared benign enough, it was the destination that cast a pall over all that went before.
