'Well,' Mrs. Paiwonski said judicially, 'there are Happiness meetings and Happiness meetings. The ones for ordinary members, who are saved but might backslide, are an awful lot of fun - grand parties with only the amount of praying that comes natural and happily, and plenty of whoopit-up that makes a good party. Maybe, even, a little real lovin' - but that's frowned on there and you'd better be mighty careful who and how, because you mustn't be a seed of dissension among the brethren. The Church is way strict about keeping things in their proper place.
'But a Happiness meeting for the eternally saved - well, you don't have to be careful because there won't be anybody there who can sin - all past and done with. If you want to drink and pass out? okay, it's God's will or you wouldn't want to. You want to kneel down and pray, or lift up your voice in song - or tear off your clothes and dance; it's God's will. Although,' she added, 'you might not have any clothes on at all, because there can't possibly be anybody there who would see anything wrong in it.'
'It sounds like quite a party,' said Jill.
'Oh, it is, it is - always! And you're filled with heavenly bliss the whole time. And if you wake up in the morning on a couch with one of the eternally saved brethren, you know he's there because God willed it to make you all blessedly Happy. And you are. They've all got Foster's kiss on - they're yours.' She frowned slightly. 'It feels a little like 'sharing water.' You understand me?'
'I grok,' agreed Mike.
('Mike?!!?')
('Wait, Jill. Wait for fullness.')
'But don't think,' Patricia said earnestly, 'that a person can get into an Inner Temple Happiness meeting just with a little tattoo mark - after all, it's too easy to fake. A visiting brother or sister - well, take me. As soon as I know where the carnie is going, I write to the local churches and send 'em my finger prints so they can check 'em against the master file of the eternally saved at Archangel Foster Tabernacle - unless they already know me. I give 'em my address care of Billboard. Then when I go to church - and I always go to church Sundays and I would never miss a Happiness meeting even if it means Tim has to slough the blow-off some nights - I go first time and get positively identified. Most places they're mighty glad to see me; I'm an added attraction, with my unique and unsurpassed sacred pictures - I often spend most of the evening just letting people examine me? and every minute of it bliss. Sometimes the priest wants me to bring Honey Bun and I do Eve and the serpent - that takes body make-up, of course, or skin-colored tights if there isn't time. Some local brother plays Adam and we get scourged out of the Garden of Eden, and the local priest explains the real meaning, not all the twisted lies you hear - and we end by regaining our blessed innocence and happiness, and that's certain to get the party really rolling. Joy!'
She added, 'But everybody is always interested in my Foster's kiss, Because, since he went back to Heaven almost twenty years ago now and the Church has increased and flourished, not too many of us have a Foster's kiss that wasn't laid on by proxy - I always have the Tabernacle testify to that, too. And I tell them about it. Uh-'
Mrs. Paiwonski hesitated, then told them about it, in explicit detail - and Jill wondered where her admittedly limited ability to blush had gone? Then she grokked that Mike and Patty were two of a kind - God's innocents, unable to be anything else, no matter what they did. She wished, for Patty's sake, that this preposterous mishmash were really true, that Foster had really been a holy prophet who had saved her for eternal bliss.
But Foster! God's Wounds, what a travesty! Then suddenly, through her greatly improved recall, Jill was standing back in a room with a wall of glass and looking into Foster's dead eyes. But, in her mind, he seemed alive and she felt a shiver in her loins and wondered what she would have done if Foster himself had offered her his holy kiss - and his holy self?
She shut it out of her mind, but not before Mike had caught much of it. She felt him smile, with knowing innocence.
She stood up. 'Pattycake darling, what time do you have to be back at the lot?'
'Oh dear! I should be back this blessed minute!'
'Why? The show doesn't roll until nine-thirty.'
'Well? Honey Bun misses me?and she's jealous if I stay out late.'
'Can't you tell her that it's a Happiness meeting night?'
'Uh?The older woman gathered Jill in her arms. 'It is! It certainly is!'
'Good. Then I'm going to get a certain amount of sleep - Jill is bushed, believe me. What time do you have to be up, then?'
'Uh, if I'm back on the lot by eight, I can get Sam to tear down my living top and have time to make sure that my babies are loaded safely.'
'Breakfast?'
'I don't eat breakfast right away, I'll get it on the train. Just coffee when I wake up, usually.'
'We can make that right here in the room. I'll see that you're up. Now you dears stay up and talk religion as long as you like; I won't let you oversleep - if you sleep. Mike doesn't sleep.'
'Not at all?'
'Never. He sort of curls up and thinks a while, if he's got something to think about - but he doesn't sleep.'
Mrs. Paiwonski nodded solemnly. 'Another sign. I know it - and, Michael, some day you will know. Your call will come.'
'Maybe,' agreed Jill. 'Mike, I'm falling asleep. Pop me into bed. Please?' She was lifted, wafted into the bedroom, the covers rolled back by invisible hands - she was asleep before he covered her.
Jill woke up, as she had planned, exactly at seven. Mike had a clock in his head, too, but his was quite erratic so far as Earth calendars and times were concerned; it vibrated to another need. She slipped out of bed, put her head into the other room. Lights were out and the shades were tight; it was quite dark. But they were not asleep. Jill heard Mike say with soft certainty:
'Thou art God.'
''Thou art God' - ' Patricia whispered back in a voice as heavy as if drugged.
'Yes. Jill is God.'
'Jill? is God. Yes, Michael.'
'And thou art God.'
'Thou - are God. Now, Michael, now!'
Jill went very softly back in and quietly brushed her teeth. Presently she let Mike know in her mind that she was awake and found, as she expected, that he knew it. When she came back into the living room, shades were up and morning sun was streaming in. 'Good morning, darlings!' She kissed them both.
'Thou art God,' Patty said simply.
'Yes, Patty. And thou art God. God is in all of us.' She looked at Patty in the harsh, bright morning light and noted that her new brother did not look tired. She looked as if she had had a full night of sleep and some extra? and looked younger and sweeter than ever. Well, she knew that effect - if Mike wanted to stay up, instead of reading or thinking all night, Jill never found it any trouble? and she suspected that her own sudden sleepiness the night before had been Mike's idea, too - and heard Mike agree in his mind that it was.
'Now coffee for both you darlings - and me, too. And I just happen to have stashed away a redipak of orange juice, too.'
They breakfasted lightly, filled out with happiness. Jill saw Patty looking thoughtful. 'What is it, dear?'
'Uh, I hate to mention this - but what are you kids going to eat on? Happens that Aunt Patty has a pretty well stuffed grouch bag and I thought-'
Jill laughed. 'Oh, darling, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to laugh. But the Man from Mars is rich! Surely you know that? Or don't you ever read the news?'
Mrs. Paiwonski looked baffled. 'Well, I guess I knew - that way. But you can't trust anything you hear over the news.'
Jill sighed. 'Patty, you're an utter darling. And believe me, now that we're water brothers, we wouldn't hesitate an instant to impose on you - 'sharing the nest' isn't just poetry. But it happens to be the other way around. If you ever need money - it doesn't matter how much; we can't use it up - just say so. Any amount. Any time. Write to me - or better yet, call me - because Mike doesn't have the foggiest idea about money. Why, dear, I've got a couple of hundred thousand dollars in a checking account in my name right this minute. Want some of it?'
Mrs. Paiwonski looked startled, something she had not looked since Mike had caused her costume to go away. 'Bless me! No, I don't need money.'
Jill shrugged. 'If you ever do, just holler. We can't possibly spend it all and the government won't let Mike give
