Computer War

Down below, one of the dolphins had pulled up against the ship’s hull. A small plastic packet was in his hands. He placed it carefully about ten feet abaft the bow and about two feet above the keel. It stuck magnetically. If information was correct, and it was, the fuel tanks of the M.S. Freedomland commenced at this point.

The swimmer, his lungs beginning to ache, threw a small stud on the side of the plastic container and headed back for the surface; in his hand was a coin which he had extracted from his belt, rather than finding it on the harbor bottom.

Behind him, the little packet was going tic-tock.

Chapter IX

Temple Bishop Stockwater, trailed by two Temple Vicars, proceeded benignly along the corridors of the Commissariat of Information.

Passersby widened their eyes, came to a quick halt and touched fingers to lips in religious salute. He nodded piously and murmured blessings as he progressed.

In the central offices of the deputy, he made his way, in the slow shuffle of the religious, to the desk of Senior Secretary Jet Pirincin, who was all but popeyed at his presence. She began to come quickly erect, her fingers immediately to lips.

But he held out a soft, white hand in placation.

“Easily, daughter,” he murmured. “I shall not interrupt your blessed efforts, participating in the holy Crusade. Now, that is the Coaid Deputy’s office, I assume?”

“Yes… yes… Your Blessedness. I… I…”

“Don’t bother yourself, daughter.” He blessed her and moved on.

Upon the entry of the United Temple’s representative to the Central Comita into his inner sanctum, Ross Westley hurried to his feet. The visit was unprecedented. Although Temple Bishop Stockwater and he had met often in the presence of Number One, they had never before held private conversation.

The Temple Bishop smiled unctuously at him, murmured something that ended in, “… my son,” then turned to his Temple Vicars.

It occurred to Ross Westley that the two younger men were on the tall and brawny side and not overly saintly in countenance.

The Temple Bishop bade them remain outside and waited until the door was closed. He then turned his rounded face to his host.

Ross Westley indicated his most comfortable chair. “Your Blessedness, this is a great honor. Could I offer you refreshment?”

The other lowered his bulk and gave an un-bishop-like squirm to achieve complete ease. He beamed at Ross. “I have heard that the Presidor imports a beverage from Mother Earth that is quite unique. Ah, sherry, I believe it is called. You wouldn’t have a small amount I might sample?”

Ross was slightly taken aback. “Sherry? I believe I’ve read about it. But, I understand it’s alcoholic, Your Blessedness.”

The Temple Bishop looked at him. Finally he said, “Indeed. Then, of course, the Presidor would never touch lip to such an abomination.”

Ross shrugged that part of it off. He indicated his orderbox. “I could have Coaid Pirincin bring you a sherbet.”

“Never mind,” the Temple Bishop said, his voice slightly less benign. “I shall, Coaid Deputy Westley, come immediately to the point.”

However, he didn’t; for a time, he skirted it.

He said, eyeing the other pensively, “You have, I understand, some learning in history, Coaid Wesley.”

Ross, wondering still at the other’s presence, said, “I had expected to become a teacher of the subject, before my father’s assassination brought me to this position.”

Temple Bishop Stockwater put the tips of his fingers together and beamed. “Of course. Then the following facts will not be strange to you. My son, I bid you recall the history of Western religion in the Mother Earth nation of Mexico. Most briefly, representatives of the prevailing European religion landed with the conquistadors under Cortes. They backed with their every effort the Spanish cause and were instrumental in completely destroying the religious and other institutions of the aborigines.”

Ross, frowning, nodded. “Of course.”

The Temple Bishop went on. “For several centuries, during the Spanish domination, this religious organization supported the Spanish in their disastrous rule of the predominantly Amerind population. When there was rebellion, they strongly sided with authority. At long last, when Europe was embroiled in the Napoleonic Wars, Latin America revolted, including Mexico. The church lined up, as usual, with the ruling power.”

Ross, still frowning, still nodded.

“However, the people won and Spain was ousted. The new government continued its attempts at reform of the institutions that had been established under the Spanish rule. But the more conservative groups, largely remnants of the older regime, fought back to the extent possible and finally invited in the so-called Emperor Maximilian, an Austrian Hapsburg, who was backed militarily by Napoleon the Third of France. The religious body supported the France-Maximilian alliance and repudiated the democratic government headed by Juarez.

“But—shall we say, unfortunately?—it was Judrez who prevailed and Maximilian was shot. Juarez, however did not long survive him and soon the government came under the dictatorship of Porfiro Dias, the representative of the great landholders and most conservative elements. When the people again rose in revolt against the dictatorship, under Madero, the religious organization supported the authorities. Although Madero was killed, however, his followers eventually won and came to power.”

The Bishop at last went silent and looked at Ross Westley thoughtfully. “My son, are you beginning to see my point?”

Ross shrugged. “The historian, Gibbon, pointed out in his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire that established religions always support the established authority.”

The United Temple representative nodded, as though the other had made some profound statement. “As it should be,” he said. “However, let me finish with the example of Mexico. Four times in succession this religious group had backed the, ah, established authority, or, at least, the minority conservative elements in society. The people, at long last, had grown tired of this. So strong measures were taken against our colleagues of yesteryear. Under the conservative regimes they had grown wealthy indeed, controlling a great deal of the property of the country. But the new government now confiscated this property. They passed laws against alliances between the State and Church. They prevented religious orders from teaching in the schools. They went so far as to forbid priests and nuns from appearing in the streets in religious garb. They passed laws preventing them from soliciting alms in public. They even passed a law preventing church bells from ringing more than one minute in duration at a time.” The Bishop registered indignation. “It was a horrible persecution.”

Ross said, “Your Blessedness, I am afraid I am dense. I don’t see what you’re driving at.”

Temple Bishop Stockwater nodded. “My son, the United Temple must take a lesson from this example and other similar ones. Although it has a duty to established authority, it has a greater duty still to itself and its mission to bring all to the eventual glory of the Holy Ultimate. No longer can a religious organization in all consciousness stand on the sidelines when an unpopular authority is running athwart the desires of the people.”

Ross Westley couldn’t believe he was translating this double-talk correctly. He stared at the other.

The Temple Bishop looked into his eyes. “My son, there are others who are of similar belief. I pray you are with us.”

“With you! What are you suggesting?”

The other smiled benignly. “There will be a meeting of our farseeing, idealistic group almost immediately, my son. Will you come with me?”

Ross Westley was still staring. He was trying desperately to assimilate this. If it meant what he thought it meant… He came suddenly to his feet.