Pulling The Dragon's Tail (6 page)

A massive choir of angels and humans, suspended
in the sky, thundered a mighty chorus. Seraphim flew overhead as
lightning followed in their wake. The sun, perhaps many of them,
shone brightly over an Earth-like landscape.

Herschel found himself high up on a mountain
covered by the rich hues of green trees. Past the mountain and out
into the valley plains, waterfalls and canyons rolled out as far as
his eyes could see. Scanning the mountain revealed a deep cloud
layer that covered the summit many kilometers higher.

God in His eternal throne!

Herschel turned his attention back to Jesus
.
But you are the reason I am here, Lord.

Jesus offered, “Let me show you around my
universe.”

Herschel was immediately transported across
galaxies where he saw black holes being formed, supernovas in
transformation, and clusters of stars in the most breathtaking
night sky.

Human-like aliens were observed on other planets
worshipping the Triune god-head: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Finally Jesus spoke again. “My son, no matter
where you go in the universe, I am there, from the middle of a
black hole to the tiniest sea creature on the opposite side of the
universe. There is no way to escape my presence.”

The Magellanic Clouds I created for you. The
Pleiades star cluster I created for your pleasure. The deep waters
on each of the million billion planets in my universe teem with
life, abundant life. All life bows down to the Lord God Creator of
the Universe. I am the Alpha and Omega.”

The booming voice arced through Herschel as his
senses tingled with a pleasure he’d never before experienced. He
had never even fathomed the depth of the sensory inputs he was now
experiencing. Peace and tranquility engrossed his being.

Momentarily he was safe from his inner demons.
I want to stay here eternally.

A sharp sensation inside his brain indicated the
warning prompt. Chad had predicted that a first time user would
need it. Without its stern warnings to keep the supercomputer
programming moving along, users of the robotic interface would
never leave.

* * * * * *

“So how does this thing work?” Herschel had
asked, tentatively, when he was first introduced to the Jesus
Machine earlier that day.

“Nervous?”

“A bit. I’ve never used such a realistic
robo-hologram. I’ve heard stories about how taken people are with
this thing.”

“Well, I’d have to compare it to someone who
used to drive a Chevy. Suddenly they trade it in for a Ferrari. Ya
know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh.”
Yes, I remember those days and I
know you do too
.

“Are you sure you’re not nervous because of
other reasons?” queried Chad.

“Well, I’ve heard of some side effects.
Sometimes memory imprints re-emerge at unannounced times in your
conscious awareness, like a hallucination, so they say.”

“Naw!” insisted Chad. “That effect’s rare and
overblown. I was referring to how most churches still frown on the
use of the Jesus Machine. You surely must know that its use is
discouraged, and some churches downright prohibit their members
from experiencing it.”

Chad’s brown eyes had sparkled with passion as
he continued. “But what’s wrong with the use of technology when it
strengthens and solidifies faith? I founded Heaven on Earth with
just such a purpose; that is, to seek any means possible to enhance
the believer’s Earthly life. Technology plays a vital role in that.
Embracing this technology has enhanced countless lives. What could
be wrong with that?”

Herschel had heard that tone of voice many times
in the past. That tone and passion had enabled Chad to make
billions of euros in entrepreneurial endeavors. It was as if Chad
was once again leading a board of directors, painting a picture of
his vision for the company, and vigorously selling the product.

That same passion and drive had helped Chad win
Herschel over in regaining a spiritual foundation. Herschel had
dedicated his life to Christ thirty years earlier.

But now he looked deep within himself.
Times
have changed. Chad is still the same old, that is, young, Chad. But
I can’t go on like this any longer
. “So show me how this
works.”

With the deft art of a car salesman, Chad
explained. “You program what you want Jesus to look like. If you
want to call it God, that’s all right by me. Some would freak out
though. You can choose from a pre-selected image or make one up
from your childhood fantasies. Then you program it with questions,
you know, your problems or dilemmas. It then translates these
parameters into a lifelike being. You can have Him speak to you
from a distance, on a throne, in a chair next to you. You can get
more intimate by having Him hug, or even carry you, just like that
old poem about footprints in the sand. You can even set it with
your favorite scripture translation. I must say that the most
popular one is still King Jimmy- even if the words are so
archaic.”

“Can I make God female?”

Chad had been momentarily taken aback.
“Well…maybe people have tried but I think it’s only programmed for
male role models. But, it’s up to you, because it’s as confidential
as anything can be. The programming is set up to erase everything
immediately after it has occurred. There’s no trail, except your
memory of it. We’ve put a lot of safeguards in to ensure that this
experience, a confessional, or whatever people want from it, is for
your senses only.”

“So don’t people become addicted to the
thing?”

“I suppose it’s possible, but I wouldn’t worry
about it.” Chad averted his eyes. “So are you ready to give it a
good test run?”

* * * * * *

Confusion reigned within Herschel for a moment.
Heaven. Earth. The Experiment. The Dilemma.

He breathed heavily. His consciousness swam in a
haze. At the periphery, he realized he had programmed Jesus to help
him with a problem.

“My child, Herschel, do you have some concerns?”
asked the Son of God.

The moment to unburden himself had finally
arrived. Not with his wife, not with his pastor, not with his
lover, not even with his closest friends had he ever uttered out
loud these thoughts. Somehow the burden of sharing them even with
God seemed like lead weights around his chest. But now he was face
to face with Jesus.

“Yes.” Slowly the words finally formed, after
years of leaving the thoughts locked up in his mind, they emerged
upon the listening ears of Jesus. “Lord, is it acceptable for
mankind to live for centuries?”

A quiet stream gurgled beside them. Jesus leaned
back against a tall pine tree and invited Herschel to sit also.
After Herschel sat, Jesus answered. “Of course. Before the curse of
sin deepened over the Earth, my people often lived for up to a
thousand years.”

“My Lord, is it within your will for mankind to
live for many millennia?”

“In Heaven,” Jesus replied, letting his foot
fall gently into the stream, “you will live and abide eternally in
the presence of my Father.”

He needed more clarity and re-stated the query.
“Jesus, is it in your will for mankind to live for millennia on the
Earth without dying a physical death?”

“Without first dying and going to Heaven?”

“Um, well, yes. Is it permissible for humans to
live for millennia on Earth without ever dying and going to
Heaven?” He could not get any more specific than that.

The Jesus figure hesitated. Several seconds
later Jesus responded. “That is no longer possible as a human.”

“But Lord, what if it was possible. I mean, what
if it was possible for mankind again to live for centuries, perhaps
millennia on the Earth without ever dying physically?”

“That is not possible. My Father only permitted
such life spans in the time before Noah. Is there another concern,
my son?”

Herschel was growing nervous. “What if humans
found another way to live longer once again, would You permit us to
do so?”

“That is not possible. Is there another
concern?”

Herschel decided to ask the question one more
way. “If it was possible, my Lord, by human technology to live on
the Earth for thousands of years without dying a physical death, is
that sin?”

The Jesus figure remained as nonplussed and
kindly as ever. “That is not possible. Do you have another
concern?”

“I…am going to live for a …long time. If I’m
going to live for centuries, is that sin? Please give me an
answer!”

The program lurched to a halt.

Herschel was suddenly face to face with
Chad.

“You broke the Jesus Machine!” he bellowed.

“What?”

Chad broke into a smile and slapped Herschel on
the back. “Nah, I’m just kidding. You just overextended your visit
with Him, that’s all. What in the world did you do in there?”

If my questions were truly asked in
confidence, then Chad really is in the dark about what
transpired
. “Now you know that’s personal.”

“And you can’t even share it with your good
buddy?”

Chad’s look of disappointment was tough to read.
Was he really saddened, or was it just a put on? At that moment,
Herschel decided that Chad’s personality had only grown more
selfish and deceitful over the years.

“Well, I’ll say this. I asked Jesus a pretty
tough question.”

“And?” Chad leaned forward in earnest. “Did you
get an answer?”

Herschel sat down on the side of the holo room
after taking off the virtual reality equipment. He thought for a
moment. Grim-faced, he replied, “Enough of one.”

At 10:15 a.m. several Ellis Clinic staff members
sat uneasily around the large, luxurious table in the spacious
conference room on the corner of the tenth floor. Two nurses,
psychobiologist Russell Saxby, and psych techs Keagen and Jentry
eyed each other warily. Large windows overlooked downtown Manhattan
to the north and east. Usually the conference room was the
cheeriest place at the clinic. However, the cloudy weather outside
reflected the gloomy atmosphere inside the room.

Computer monitors were stationed on the table in
front of each chair. Next to each was a small holographic
projector. At the head of the table sat an empty chair. The
holographic projector next to it was currently downloading the
image of the Ellis Clinic’s director, Pablo Estefan Martinez.

A jovial smile always seemed pasted to the face
of the director. To some of the staff, Martinez’s smile meant
friendliness, while for others it signaled a vacuous look. But,
with the download completed, everyone could plainly see that Pablo
Martinez was clearly
not
smiling. Buenos Aires, Argentina,
was his actual physical location, where he was ostensibly attending
a professional conference. A portly, middle-aged man of Mexican
descent, his thick black hair sat snugly under his favorite golf
cap, accented by the rich hues of a gaudy golf shirt.

“In my eleven years as clinic director I have
never seen such blatant breaches of protocol! I don’t know where to
start!” Realizing the golf cap still graced his head, he gruffly
pulled it off, and tossed it out of view. Glancing around the room
he noted those in attendance.

The Internet Holographic Conferencing site in
Buenos Aires had a somewhat poor connection, making all the figures
around the table appeared a bit grainy in texture to him. Likewise,
the holographic connection in the Ellis Clinic conference room was
poor, creating a somewhat incomplete picture of the director.

Martinez continued, “Nurses who leave sensitive
doors open! And a patient able to hack into our computer system!”
Suddenly noting an empty chair, he said, “Where is Dr. Dev—”

“Sorry I’m late, Pablo.” Campbell Devereaux
hastily sat down opposite him. A pause ensued as it took a few
seconds for her image to be fully downloaded and sent to the
director.

“Dr. Devereaux, Mr. Kristopher is your patient!
Shouldn’t you have been providing better supervision to your
staff?”

Campbell Devereaux sat erect, elbows forward on
the table with fingers clasped together supporting her chin. Her
mind raced, barely comprehending the director’s question.

* * * * * *

Moments before, her wrist computer had begun
beeping loudly. A computer voice spoke emphatically into her ear
microphone—URGENT MESSAGE IN MAILBOX—OPEN IMMEDIATELY. Leaving the
troublesome Mr. Kristopher with two psych techs, she had rushed to
her office. Placing her hand-held wrist computer into the main dock
of her desk computer, she called it up.

Incredibly she was staring at an intense and
disheveled Nate Kristopher recording a video from inside his
patient bathroom. She recognized Keagan’s insistent voice in the
background. Nate Kristopher then turned to the camera and said,
“Dr. Devereaux, I know of no other way to get my point across.
Watch this video attachment. Mitchell Hilliard
really
did
it. He turned back aging.”

Before she could even register an emotion, the
video file opened. Old footage of a snow-capped mountain range
loomed in the background. It was somewhat shaky; obviously taken by
an amateur. The panoramic view continued, and soon surveyed a deep
blue lake in the foreground.

Then a voice from her past had spoken. “It’s
another beautiful July day here in the Canadian Northwest. We’re
here at our cabin at Lake Saskatchewa. My son and family are
staying for a week. Come on Campbell, let’s go fishin’!” The camera
panned over to a young brown haired girl with a pony tail and
freckles, busily skipping stones on the still lake. “Now, honey,
you’ll scare the fish away with those rocks,” chuckled the camera
person.