“I came because my daughter has leukemia and I wanted Jesus to help her. When I entered Zack’s room, I felt the Lord’s presence.…”
“I believe the Lord spoke through Zack, giving us a sign of hope and mercy. And he chose Zack because he was broken in body and in a state of total purity of spirit. Jesus spoke through him. I believe this with all my heart.”
There were many more of the same.
But down the Google list were other, darker responses—warnings that these miracle-seeking faithful were being brutally misled, and not by wishful thinking or autosuggestion, but by Satan himself.
“Remember the warning of the scriptures, Second Corinthians 11:14: ‘Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.’ And let’s not forget that Zachary Kashian is a professed atheist and member of the Secular Humanist Society of his university.
“I’m telling you that Satan’s deceptions are much like a kaleidoscope: As the tube is rotated, the same bits of colored glass will form new design. Those who claim seeing Jesus in that young man’s room are the devil’s dupes. That was not Jesus or the Blessed Virgin, but Satan himself—the Great Deceiver.”
The words sounded familiar to Roman, but he dismissed them as stock religious attacks—theological chestnuts. Likewise the name of the blogger meant nothing to him: Norman Babcock, director of the Fraternity of Jesus.
But what kept pecking at him was that the kid was born on the sixth of June, 1986. Were Roman a superstitious man, he would have wondered at the significance of those numbers: 666. The number of the beast.
For a moment Roman, too, was lost in the possibilities of what may have transpired in that hospital room— whether Zachary Kashian was channeling Jesus Christ or the Antichrist. Whichever, maybe it was time to meet this “miracle” man.
54
“We think he’s merged with another mind.”
“What?
“We don’t know who. And there’s no way that can be determined,” said Morris Stern. “But we’re certain it’s a bona fide merger.”
“Glory hallelujah,” Warren Gladstone said. “Thank you, sweet Lord. Thank you.”
They were back in Warren’s suite at the Taj. Morris Stern maneuvered the mouse until a video image of the MRI of Zack’s brain appeared. “Here are images of the electrical activity in his first NDE. You can see discrete signature patterns consistent with the mathematical analysis. Now look at this.” The next screen showed other pulsing blotches in superimposition of the first.
“Oh my,” Warren said.
With a pen, Stern pointed out the new configurations. “This activity here and here and here were not present in the original NDE. They’re a completely foreign imprint.”
“We’re looking at the mind of God,” Gladstone declared.
“More likely the mind of someone else.”
“But from the other side.”
“That I don’t know,” Stern said.
That was the most he was going to concede. “Why not God?”
“Because we don’t have God’s profile on file.”
“But you’re telling me that the boy was in communication with someone from the other side. So why not God? Why couldn’t his mind have merged with the Lord’s?” Warren could barely contain himself.
Stern shook his head. “I didn’t say from the other side—”
“Warren,” Elizabeth broke in, “what we picked up was clearly an intrusive electrical presence imposed on his own activity. It’s a huge leap to claim merging with God. More likely he mind-merged with someone now deceased, which is nonetheless still remarkable. A first!”
“Hallelujah.”
Warren had seen the videos of the other test subjects, including several college kids; he had listened to their accounts of near-death experiences, some so full of detail and passion that he was nearly convinced. He had even allowed Luria to set up their lab in his own minister’s home, which they’d had to gut to install their MRI machine. He had spent $10 million of ministry money, an investment that had turned some board directors against him. And after all the years of expense and false hope, after all the brain scans and videos of people in suspension—this was the first time that Elizabeth Luria and company had shown actual evidence of spiritual contact.
Yes, more tests would be needed, as Elizabeth had said. But he felt a near rapturous anticipation of the day he could grasp the Holy Grail and show the world that the Lord God Almighty exists.
And the possibilities were endless. No longer would belief be simply a leap of faith. No longer would death be final. His would be evidence of things unseen. Evidence that all the world would embrace. Gone would be barriers that separated Christians and Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, and the rest. All would be joined in one unifying belief system, at the core of which would be Warren Gladstone and his tabernacle. Yes, there would be cries of trickery, even heresy, perhaps even temporary backlashes—the inevitable resistance and protests against any pronouncement from Evangelical Christianity. But he’d cross those bridges when he got to them, fortified by the realization that he was at the vanguard of the greatest revelation ever: that he had found God.
“And you’d said he declared no religious affiliation?”
“Sorry. He entered ‘NONE’ on the questionnaire.”
“Sorry nothing,” Gladstone chortled. “All the better. He’ll be our own Doubting Thomas who not only sees the light but sheds it on the world.” Then he added, “Guard him well. This young man is manna from heaven, a gift from the Lord God Almighty Himself.”
“It couldn’t have happened without your generosity.”
“Worth every penny.” Warren stared at the images from the fMRI. “And delicious irony abounds. Deus ex machina.”
Elizabeth Luria smiled. “That may be, but we still have more computations to do before we claim vindication.”
“Then do them.”
And as Warren lost himself in those pulsing colors across the schematic of Zack Kashian’s brain, he felt the breathless promise well up in his soul. He knew he was looking at the mind of the Creator—but he also knew in his soul that he would indeed live in the house of the Lord forever and ever.
Amen.
55
Zack had called Dr. Luria two days ago to explain that he was not interested in any more suspensions. It was taking too much of his time, and he had to finish his thesis. His manner was polite and his tone neutral. And he said nothing about the murder flashes because she would use that to fuel her insistence that he return for more tests.
As expected, she did not take kindly to his announcement, beseeching him to reconsider, proclaiming that they were on the cusp of a great discovery, et cetera, et cetera. She had enlisted her best appeals short of begging. To soften the blow, he said that he would get back to her if he changed his mind.
In the meantime, he worked on his thesis, occasionally flipping through library books on NDEs. Most reports described the standard experiences—tunnel rides, total serenity, a oneness with the universe. And the standard presence of light and spiritual beings. A great number of claimants reported how NDE changed their lives for the better, making them more faithful and caring. But none reported anything like his horror shows.
As he did most mornings, Zack headed for an isolated table in the student union cafe that Thursday. It felt good to be back at his thesis without distraction. He worked steadily for a good part of the morning, until a voice
