The Jehovah Contract

, or is his power of a different

nature?

Is his knowledge a nonhuman variety?'

She had me there. 'Just the typical sort of unfathomable God that most people believe in.'

'Well, if you can't understand god, you'll never be able to find him. And to use the term to mean anything less than a difference in

kind

is a misuse of the term. A more powerful man or alien may be godlike, but he wouldn't be a god.'

I slugged down the rest of my drink. 'Why are you bringing all this up?'

'I just want you to know what you're getting involved in. I think you've already started on the wrong foot. Have you looked through any books?'

'A lot of theology texts.'

'You can't go to the people who believe already. They've made up their minds and want to convince you of their own personal heresy. Most theologians have no idea of what constitutes rational proof. Go to the antitheists.'

'Who?'

'The disbelievers. At least they'll give you an idea of what god is not.'

The waitress reappeared to deliver Ann's drink. She accepted it and covered the tab-and tip-without even thinking about it. I was growing fond of her already.

'You notice that I haven't asked you who wants god killed. I won't. I think the world would be better off without a god. And I don't think you're a mental case for believing that gods can literally die. Zeus is dead, after all.'

'I thought he was simply doing time for rape.'

She smiled at that and took a sip of her drink. 'His worshippers are gone. Where does a god go then?'

'I think that was dealt with on a

Star Trek

episode.'

Her eyes twinkled with laughter like northern lights. '

Star Trek

and

The Twilight Zone

both had a sophisticated grasp of theology.'

'Are you old enough to remember them?'

She smiled like a debutante. 'I have them on disc.'

'And what TV show had the worst theology?'

'

Father Knows Best

, of course.'

We both laughed. Then I heard someone behind me. Maybe

heard

isn't the right word. I had the same sort of crowded feeling I'd had the other night in the upstairs corridor. I turned around.

Fifty pounds of brat wrapped in hot pink velvet approached. She noticed me and changed her course to pass by, smiling wickedly. She strode up to Ann and whispered loud enough for the next three tables to hear.

'Don't worry about him trying to get into your skirt, lady. It ain't the meat, it's the tumidity.'