think I've been able to piece together some more parts of my past. One of the classes taught us to do a type of meditation in which you go into a dream-like state while you're still fully conscious, so it's possible to have full control and nearly full recollection of everything that you dream. Since most of the things I've remembered about my life as Jesus have occurred in dreams, I tried using this type of meditation to draw out other information.'
'So what have you discovered?' Decker asked.
'I remember, as a child, working in my father's carpentry shop and how hard the work was; and I remember playing with the other children. One thing that's a little odd is that I've had several dreams involving Indians.'
Decker did a double take. 'Indians?!' he said. 'You mean like Sitting Bull, Cochise, Geronimo?!'
'No! No! I mean real Indians; east Indians; from India.'
'Oh!' Decker laughed at his understandable error. 'But, that's not much better. There's nothing in the Bible about Jesus ever going to India is there?'
'No, not in the Bible, but there's considerable evidence in other literature that suggests he did. There's a church in Montana called the Church Universal and Triumphant which teaches that Jesus studied under an Indian maharishi. To tell you the truth, sometimes it's hard to be sure which memories are based on something that actually happened and which are the product of imagination. What I remember, or at least seem to remember, are scenes of life in an Indian village and of one particular Indian who must have been my teacher or spiritual leader. In my dream I'm very young, sitting on a mat listening to him, though I've not been able to make any sense out of what he was saying.'
'Is there anything else that you remember – in particular, any events which happened differently than what the Bible describes? '
'No, mostly just personal experiences,' Christopher answered regretfully.
'How far back have you been able to remember?' Decker asked. 'Do you remember anything about… God?' Decker's tone bore a strong hint of reverent caution.
'I'm sorry,' Christopher answered, 'I wish I did. I can usually remember my dreams while I'm meditating, and I have had a number of dreams that I think involved someone who seemed like a god, but each time when I woke up and tried to remember, it just wouldn't come back to me. I do remember that the dreams were very unusual and I remember a feeling of awe mixed with a heavy dose of fear.'
'In your dream,' Decker probed, 'did it seem like you were in heaven?' The word 'heaven' coming from his mouth reminded Decker of the bizarre circumstances of this whole conversation and he looked around again to be sure no one was listening.
'I don't know,' Christopher answered. 'It didn't seem at all like the heaven Aunt Martha described. I suppose it could have been the planet that Uncle Harry thought I came from. I've searched my memory time and again, but all I can see of that world is shadows. It's like trying to hold water in your hand. I'll start to remember something, and for a moment it seems so real and solid, but the instant I start to grasp it, it's gone. I do remember seeing lights – glowing bodies, sometimes in human form, sometimes with no form at all.' Decker's expression said that he wanted to hear more. 'Angels maybe,' Christopher added with an uncomfortable chuckle. 'And there was one other thing: a voice. I don't remember what it said; I just remember the voice, the sound of the voice. Something about it was strangely familiar, but I can't say exactly why or how. What's even more puzzling is that I think I've heard that voice somewhere else, just recently, within the past several years.'
Decker's eyes grew wide. 'Can you re… ' Decker stopped abruptly as a sudden look of recognition registered on Christopher's face. 'What is it?' he asked.
'I just remembered where I heard the voice!' Christopher fell silent, apparently analyzing the new data in his mind.
'Where?' Decker asked, trying to urge him on.
'Remember the dream I had about the wooden box on the night the missiles blew up over Russia?' Decker nodded. 'In the dream there was a voice saying 'Behold the hand of God,' followed by laughter, cold inhuman laughter. That was the really frightening part of the dream.'
'Yeah, I remember you telling me that.'
'That's what made the voice I heard in my meditations seem both familiar, and yet at the same time so strange. The voice and the laughter are the same. They are the same person or being or whatever. I'm sure of it.'
Decker waited while Christopher silently continued his analysis. 'I'm sorry,' he said, finally, 'that's all I can remember.'
'Do you have any idea what it all means?' Decker asked.
Christopher frowned and shook his head.
Decker waited a moment just in case Christopher had any afterthoughts. He didn't. 'Well,' Decker concluded with a smile, 'having you around sure makes life interesting.' Decker started to take a bite of his meal but was struck by another thought. 'Uh, Christopher… 'he began, unsure of exactly how to word his question, 'these classes and meditation: I don't suppose they've given you any insight into why you're here – whether you're here for a purpose or anything – if you have a mission?'
Decker was entirely in earnest, but for the first time in the conversation Christopher began to laugh. 'What's so funny?' Decker asked, quite surprised by Christopher's reaction.
'I guess that somewhere in the back of my mind I had always hoped you might someday answer that question for me,' Christopher responded. Decker gave him a puzzled look. 'After all, the cloning wasn't my idea.'
Nor had it been Decker's idea, but in the absence of Professor Goodman, Decker suddenly felt the weight of a responsibility he had never considered his own.
Christopher broke the brief but uncomfortable pause, 'I'm just trying to make the best of a very strange situation,' he said. 'I might just as well ask you why you were born. I guess none of us actually chose to be here. We just are.' Christopher paused again. 'I guess that's one big difference between me and the original. Apparently he had some choice in coming to this planet. I had none. I suppose in some ways my lack of choice actually makes me all the more human.' Christopher's voice seemed to carry a real note of longing – a longing to be like everyone else.
'No, I'm not entirely human,' Christopher continued. 'I don't get sick and if I hurt myself I heal quickly, but I feel what other people feel, I hurt like other people hurt. I bleed like other people bleed. And I can die, too.' Here Christopher paused. 'At least I guess I can.' And paused again. Decker didn't interrupt. 'If I were to die, I'm not sure what would happen. Would I be resurrected like Jesus was? I don't know. What was it that resurrected Jesus? Was it in his nature?… my nature? Or was it some special act of God? I don't know.'
Decker had seen Christopher's humanity time and again: in the pain he carried with him over the loss of his adoptive aunt and uncle; in the compassion he showed toward Decker for the loss of Elizabeth, Hope and Louisa; in his desire that his life and profession be directed toward helping those less fortunate than himself; and in the concern he had for the well-being of his friend and mentor Secretary Milner. And here again was another sign of Christopher's humanity, one that Decker had never seen before: his feeling of being lost and alone in a life and a world he did not choose.
'I don't think I'm here for any reason in particular,' Christopher concluded, 'except maybe, like everyone else, to be the best me I can be.'
Abruptly, Christopher's thoughts shifted to Milner almost as if they had been pushed in that direction by Decker's own fleeting thought of the former Assistant Secretary-General a moment earlier. 'I'm really worried about him,' he said.
Somehow Decker knew immediately who Christopher was referring to. He would have preferred to stay on the subject of Christopher's dreams and recollections, but they could return to that later. Right now Christopher was displaying the very humanity that Decker had just been pondering. He was obviously more concerned with Milner's well-being than with his own circumstances.
'He put up a good show at the hospital,' Christopher continued, 'but I think he's in much worse condition than he let on. I asked the doctors, but they said they were prohibited from talking about the case, except to say his surgery went well.'
'That's pretty much standard policy,' Decker said. 'I wouldn't let that worry you. I insist on the same policy with Secretary-General Hansen's doctors. They don't say a word to the press or anyone else without my approval.'
'Sure, I know that,' Christopher said, a little reluctant to be reassured. 'I guess mainly it's just a feeling. I've
