Free The Divine Invasion by Philip K. Dick
Authors: Philip K. Dick
danger, with what was required of her. But they—She saw them consulting Big Noodle, the Al System that processed Earth's information, the vast artificial intelligence on which the government relied.
Big Noodle, after analyzing the data, informed the authorities that something sinister had been smuggled past Immigration and onto Earth; she felt their recoil, their aversion. Incredible, she thought. To see the Lord of the universe through their eyes; to see him as foreign. How could the Lord who created everything be a foreign thing'? They are not in his image, then , she realized. This is what Yah is telling me. I always assumed—we were always taught—that man is the image of God. It is like calling to like. Then they really believe in themselves! They sincerely do not understand.
The monster from outer space, she thought. We must be on guard perpetually lest it show up and sneak through Immigration. How deranged they are. How far off the mark. Then they would kill my baby, she thought. It is impossible but it is true. And no one could make them understand what they had done. The Sanhedrin thought the same way, she said to herself, about Jesus. This is another Zealot. She shut her eyes.
They are living in a cheap horror film, she thought. There is something wrong when you fear little children. When you view them, any one of them, as weird and awful. I don't want this insight, she said to herself, drawing back in aversion. Take it away, please; I've seen enough.
I understand.
She thought, This is why it has to be done. Because they see as they do. They pray; they make decisions; they shield their world—they keep out hostile intrusions. To them this is a hostile intrusion. They are demented; they would kill the God who made them. No rational thing does that. Christ did not die on the cross to render men spotless; he was crucified because they were crazy; they saw as I see now. It is a vista of lunacy.
They think they are doing the right thing.
6
T he girl Zina said, "I have something for you."
"A present?" He held out his hand, trustingly.
Only a child's toy. An information slate, such as every young person had. He felt keen disappointment.
"We made it for you," Zina said.
"Who is that?" He examined the slate. Self-governing factories turned out hundreds of thousands of such slates. Each slate contained common microcircuitry. "Mr. Plaudet gave me one of these already," he said. "They're plugged into the school."
"We make ours differently," Zina said. "Keep it. Tell Mr. Plaudet this is the one he gave you. He won't be able to distinguish them from each other. See? We even have the brand name on it." With her finger she traced the letters I.B.M.
"This one isn't really I.B.M.," he said.
"Definitely not. Turn it on."
He pressed the tab of the slate. On the slate, on the pale gray surface, a single word in illuminated red appeared.
VALIS
"That's your question for right now," Zina said. "To figure out what 'Valis' is. The slate is posing the problem for you at a class-one level … which means it'll give you further clues, if you want them."
"Mother Goose," Emmanuel said.
On the slate the word VALIS disappeared. Now it read:
HEPHAISTOS
"Kyklopes," Emmanuel said instantly.
Zina laughed. "You're as fast as it is.,'
"What's it connected to? Not Big Noodle." He did not like Big Noodle.
"Maybe it'll tell you," Zina said.
The slate now read:
SHIVA
"Kyklopes," Emmanuel repeated. "It's a trick. This was built by the troop of Diana."
At once the girl's smile faded.
"I'm sorry," Emmanuel said. "I won't say it again out loud even one more time."
"Give me the slate back." She held out her hand.
Emmanuel said, "I will give it back if it says for me to give it back. He pressed the tab.
NO
"All right," Zina said. "I'll let you keep it. But you don't know what it is: you don't understand it. The troop didn't build it. Press the tab."
Again he pressed the tab.
LONG BEFORE CREATION
"I—" Emmanuel
Big Noodle, after analyzing the data, informed the authorities that something sinister had been smuggled past Immigration and onto Earth; she felt their recoil, their aversion. Incredible, she thought. To see the Lord of the universe through their eyes; to see him as foreign. How could the Lord who created everything be a foreign thing'? They are not in his image, then , she realized. This is what Yah is telling me. I always assumed—we were always taught—that man is the image of God. It is like calling to like. Then they really believe in themselves! They sincerely do not understand.
The monster from outer space, she thought. We must be on guard perpetually lest it show up and sneak through Immigration. How deranged they are. How far off the mark. Then they would kill my baby, she thought. It is impossible but it is true. And no one could make them understand what they had done. The Sanhedrin thought the same way, she said to herself, about Jesus. This is another Zealot. She shut her eyes.
They are living in a cheap horror film, she thought. There is something wrong when you fear little children. When you view them, any one of them, as weird and awful. I don't want this insight, she said to herself, drawing back in aversion. Take it away, please; I've seen enough.
I understand.
She thought, This is why it has to be done. Because they see as they do. They pray; they make decisions; they shield their world—they keep out hostile intrusions. To them this is a hostile intrusion. They are demented; they would kill the God who made them. No rational thing does that. Christ did not die on the cross to render men spotless; he was crucified because they were crazy; they saw as I see now. It is a vista of lunacy.
They think they are doing the right thing.
6
T he girl Zina said, "I have something for you."
"A present?" He held out his hand, trustingly.
Only a child's toy. An information slate, such as every young person had. He felt keen disappointment.
"We made it for you," Zina said.
"Who is that?" He examined the slate. Self-governing factories turned out hundreds of thousands of such slates. Each slate contained common microcircuitry. "Mr. Plaudet gave me one of these already," he said. "They're plugged into the school."
"We make ours differently," Zina said. "Keep it. Tell Mr. Plaudet this is the one he gave you. He won't be able to distinguish them from each other. See? We even have the brand name on it." With her finger she traced the letters I.B.M.
"This one isn't really I.B.M.," he said.
"Definitely not. Turn it on."
He pressed the tab of the slate. On the slate, on the pale gray surface, a single word in illuminated red appeared.
VALIS
"That's your question for right now," Zina said. "To figure out what 'Valis' is. The slate is posing the problem for you at a class-one level … which means it'll give you further clues, if you want them."
"Mother Goose," Emmanuel said.
On the slate the word VALIS disappeared. Now it read:
HEPHAISTOS
"Kyklopes," Emmanuel said instantly.
Zina laughed. "You're as fast as it is.,'
"What's it connected to? Not Big Noodle." He did not like Big Noodle.
"Maybe it'll tell you," Zina said.
The slate now read:
SHIVA
"Kyklopes," Emmanuel repeated. "It's a trick. This was built by the troop of Diana."
At once the girl's smile faded.
"I'm sorry," Emmanuel said. "I won't say it again out loud even one more time."
"Give me the slate back." She held out her hand.
Emmanuel said, "I will give it back if it says for me to give it back. He pressed the tab.
NO
"All right," Zina said. "I'll let you keep it. But you don't know what it is: you don't understand it. The troop didn't build it. Press the tab."
Again he pressed the tab.
LONG BEFORE CREATION
"I—" Emmanuel