Blasphemy

“I see. Tell me more about this entry door.”

“It’s a titanium honeycomb composite. Very hard to cut. Explosives would be the way to go.”

“Get me the specs on it. And then?”

“Inside, there’s a big cavern. Straight ahead is the Isabella tunnel. To the left is the control room, which we call the Bridge. Its door is one-inch stainless steel, a final defense against entry. I’ll get you the blueprints.”

“That’s it for security?”

“That’s it.”

“Are they armed?”

“The SIO, Wardlaw, carries a sidearm. No other firearms are allowed.”

Morton turned to the president. “Mr. President, we need your order to go ahead with this operation.”

Lockwood watched as the president hesitated, glanced at him, then looked over to the FBI Director. “Send in the FBI Hostage Rescue Team. Get the scientists out of the mountain and shut Isabella down.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

The chief of staff slapped his briefing file shut with a smack, the sound like a slap to Lockwood’s face.

50

A WHINING SINGSONG KEENED THROUGH THE BUNKER. The screen flickered. Ford stood rooted before the Visualizer, Kate beside him. Somehow, he didn’t remember when her hand had found his.

In response to Hazelius’s question, more words appeared on the screen.

The great monotheistic religions were a necessary stage in the development of human culture. Your task is to guide the human race to the next belief system.

“Which is?”

Science.

That’s ridiculous—science can’t be a religion!“ said Hazelius.

You have already started a new religion—only you refuse to see it. Religion was once a way to make sense of the world. Science has now taken over this role.

“Science and religion are two different things,” Ford broke in. “They ask different questions and require different kinds of evidence.”

Science and religion both seek the same thing: truth. There can be no reconciliation between the two. The collision of worldviews is well under way and worsening. Science has already refuted most of the core beliefs of the world’s historical religions, bringing those religions into a state of turmoil. Your task is to help humanity chart a path through the crisis.

“Oh, please!” Edelstein cried. “You think the fanatics in the Middle East—or the Bible Belt, for that matter— are going to roll over and accept science as the new religion? That’s crazy.”

You will offer the world my words and the story of what happened here. Do not underestimate my power—the power of truth.

“Where are we supposed to be going with this new religion? What’s the point of it? Who needs it?” Hazelius asked.

The immediate goal of humankind is to escape the limits of biochemistry. You must free your mind from the meat of your bodies.

“The meat? I don’t understand,” said Hazelius.

Meat. Nerves. Cells. Biochemistry. The medium by which you think. You must free your mind from the meat.

“How?”

You have already begun to process information beyond your meat existence through computers. You will soon find a way to process it using quantum-state computing machines, which will lead you to harness the natural quantum processes in the world around you as a means of computation. No longer will you need to build machines to process information. You will expand into the universe, literally and figuratively, as other intelligent entities have expanded before you. You will escape the prison of biological intelligence.

“Then what?”

Over time, you will link up with other expanded intelligences. All these linked intelligences will discover a way to merge into a third stage of mind that will comprehend the simple reality that is at the heart of existence.

“And that’s it? That’s what it’s all about?” Kate asked.

No. That is merely a prelude to a greater task.

The Visualizer flickered, lines of snow shooting across. Dolby labored at his workstation, hunkered down and silent. The words rippled, as if reflected in black water.

“Which is what?” Hazelius finally asked.

Arresting the heat death of the universe.

Ford felt Kate’s hand instinctively tighten around his.

51

BOOKER CRAWLEY TOOK THE CUP OF coffee into his study and settled in his chair in front of the TV. Once again he picked up the remote and flipped through the news stations. Nothing. There didn’t seem to be any blowback from the wild accusations Spates had made on his show. Still, Crawley couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen. He glanced at the clock. It was thirty minutes past one, eastern daylight time— eleven thirty in Arizona. Or was it ten thirty?

He exhaled and swallowed a bitter mouthful of coffee. He was getting worked up over nothing. So far everything had gone as planned, and Spates’s show, even if it was nutty, was sure to scare the crap out of the Navajo Tribal Council.

That thought made him feel better.

Still . . . It wouldn’t hurt to check in with Spates and find out where the hell he had gotten that crazy information about Isabella claiming it was God.

He dialed Spates’s office number first, on the off chance he might still be at work. Surprisingly, the line was busy. No voice mail, just busy. He waited several minutes and dialed again, then again, still without getting through.

Probably out of order.

He dialed Spates’s cell number next, and got routed immediately to his voice mail. “You have reached the voice mailbox of Reverend Don T. Spates,” a pleasant female voice said. “The mailbox is currently full. Please try later.”

Crawley dialed the reverend’s home phone. It, too, was busy.

Christ, it was stuffy in the study. He walked to the window, unlatched it, and slid it open. A stream of night air, fresh and lovely, washed in, swelling the lace curtains. He took a few deep breaths. He told himself again there was no reason for alarm. He sipped his coffee while staring into the darkened street, wondering what exactly had him spooked. A busy phone?

The reverend would have a Web site. Maybe there would be information posted there.

He sat down at his desk, booted up his laptop, and Googled:

Spates God’s Prime Time

The first hit was indeed the televangelist’s official Web site, www .godsprimetime.com. He clicked on the link and waited.

After a frustrating minute, an error message appeared. BANDWIDTH IMIT XCEEDED The server is temporarily unable to service your request due to the site owner reaching bandwidth limit. Please try again later. Apache/1.3.37 Server at www.godsprimetime.com Port 80

His uneasiness climbed a notch. Busy phones, server down . . . Could Spates’s Web site be under a denial- of-service attack? Maybe other Christian sites would have posted something.

He Googled:

Isabella God Spates

A bunch of unfamiliar Christian Web sites came up, with names like jesus-is-savior.com, raptureready.com, antichrist.com. He clicked on a link at random and immediately it opened to a document.

My Friends in Christ,Many of you watched the show Roundtable America earlier