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23

The Rabbi felt good. His mind was clear; clearer than it had been without the liquor. Shotzen once read that booze was proof that G-d loves us and wants us to be happy. The Talmud also stated that we would be held accountable in the world to come for every permitted food and drink we have had the opportunity to eat yet not eaten. Why should being drunk be considered a sin?

“Both of our religions believe in angels, correct?” Thrist asked.

“Yes.”

“And angels can fall from grace, just as man can.”

“Natch. But Jews don't believe in a fiery hell where souls are tortured for eternity by red devils with pitchforks. Sheol, the pit, is nothing more than the absence of God. And most believe it doesn't last any longer than eleven hours.”

Thrist held up his hands as if stopping an oncoming car. “Let's hold off on hell for a second. Is it possible for a fallen angel to visit earth?”

“Perhaps. But demons aren't prevalent in Jewish midrash. They're usually allegorical. For example Kesef, the demon who attacked Moses at Horeb, is the Hebrew word for silver.”

Thrist sighed. “Menachem, open your mind for a moment. When President Carter recruited you for Samhain, you were publishing that underground newsletter—”

“The Wandering Jew,” Shotzen said with pride.

“You were America's foremost expert in Judaic mysticism.”

Shotzen thought back to those years, living like a hermit in a one bedroom apartment, studying and interpreting ancient texts. The Kabbalah and Zohar, a little known Jewish tome which revealed how to obtain peace on earth. The 4th century Haggadah, a collection of Jewish legends and exegetical treaties. The apocrypha, the hidden scriptures of the Torah compiled during the period of exile in Babylonia.

“Michael, you've read the same texts. Seven heavens and seven earths, with twenty one layers of reality hooked together by wires. Gehenna, a continent on Arqa which encompasses the seven layers of hell—this is all allegory.”

“Take a good look at Bub, Rabbi, and tell me he is allegory. You agree fallen angels could visit the earth?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then perhaps this fallen angel, this devil, would take on a familiar appearance, even if it is the appearance that mankind gave him.”

“Go on.”

“If Bub was truly alive at the time of Christ...”

“Again with Christ?”

“Christ as Messiah isn't the point. Can you believe that there was once a living breathing person named Jesus Christ?”

“There is mention of him in Josephus, so yes. But every knee has not bowed, there is no universal peace, the lion has not lain down with the lamb, nor does every tongue swear loyalty to the one true God.”

Thrist frowned. “You're missing the point. You have conceded that devils exist, and that Jesus existed. Now the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke all make the claim that Beelzebub tempted Jesus while he fasted in the desert. Luke 4:5 Then the Devil took him up...”

“Please,” Shotzen grimaced. “We don't want to play the scripture quoting game again.”

“Fine. The point is, if Julius Caesar indeed taught Bub how to speak Latin, and Caesar died in 44 BC, isn't it conceivable that it was Bub who tempted Christ in the desert?”

“That was eighty years later.”

“Demons don't age. He's been here for 100 years and looks exactly the same. Can't you at least admit it could be possible?”

“Possible, yes. Probable, no. Whether Bub is a demon or something pretending to be a demon, it makes sense for him to act like a demon. Lies, deceptions, flattery, bribery, bargaining, tempting, wheeling and dealing; these are Satan's tricks. I contend he heard the name Christ and played on your reaction to it.”

 Thrist's wrinkles deepened and he pursed his lips. “So he also heard the name Julius Caesar?” he countered.

“He was found in 1906. Say he was buried in the 1800's, or even the 1700's or 1600's. He could have known the names of both Christ and Caesar. He spoke Maya when he woke up, and the Mayans were conquered by the Spanish, who were Christians, if I remember my history. That was one of the ways they justified the genocide of the indigenous South American people. They claimed it was Adonai's will to slaughter the heathens.”

“Bah!” Thrist threw his hands in the air and stood up. “The problem with you, Rabbi, is your insistence on the past to explain the present. Until you find some kind of precedent for Bub in one of your ancient mystic texts, you'll continue to deny what you see with your own eyes.”

“What is more important Father—what I see with my eyes or what I feel with my heart?”

“You were born and raised a Jew, and that's why you are a Jew. It was what you were taught. I'm Catholic because that's what I was taught. But faith is not a substitute for proof, no matter how much you insist. Anyone with a high school education can argue that the world is more than 6000 years old. Yet that is what our religions teach. Atheists have attacked the Bible from all angles, finding one discrepancy after another. How does the Church refute these claims of no God? Faith! But that doesn't matter anymore!”

Thrist was shouting now, his finger pointing at Shotzen.

“I could show the entire world the Bible, and only some will believe. But if I showed the entire world our friend Bub, ALL WOULD BELIEVE!”

Thrist sprung to his feet, his face bright red, breathing as if he’d just run a marathon.

Shotzen chose his words carefully. “Bub is not a sign from ha-shem, Father.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Perhaps you need some time off, to rest. Can't you confer with the arch diocese?”

Thrist stormed over to the door and opened it. He turned before leaving. “I need time off,” Thrist said, “like you need another drink.”

Thrist left, closing the door behind him.

Shotzen mulled it over.

“I cannot argue with logic like that,” he said.

Then he left his room to get another bottle of schnapps.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Dr. Julie Harker walked by Rabbi Shotzen in the Purple Arm, avoiding eye contact.

“Good evening, Dr. Harker,” Shotzen said as he passed.

Harker didn't bother replying.

She was on her way to Purple 8 to find a movie to watch. Something to kill the evening. Shotzen, the doctor surmised, was coming back from Purple 6. That's where the liquor was kept. The Rabbi had been holding something at his side, trying to conceal it. Trying to hide his secret.

Harker knew about having secrets.

She entered Purple 8 and hit the light. The room was arranged like a library, which made sense because it was essentially just that. But unlike Red 3, which held documents about Project Samhain, this was put here for the entertainment needs of the staff. Harker walked past the shelving units filled with fiction, past the several large magazine racks (the compound had subscriptions to 58 different magazines, and issues were dropped off every few months with supplies), and past the archaic film collection (actual 16mm films in cans on reels.)

The video collection was one aisle over from film. It included the obsolete reel-to-reel format, which replaced kinescope for recording television from the 60s, and the racks of ?” tapes which became standard in the 70s. None of these interested Harker. She continued down the isle until she reached the first commercially produced tapes for home use. Betamax.

Samhain's Beta selection was among the largest in the world. It may have also been the only remaining one in the world as well, since the Sony format had become obsolete years prior to VHS. There were over 20,000 titles, arranged alphabetically and according to genre.

Harker didn't give the Action/Adventure section a glance. She also passed up Drama, Westerns, and the Adult aisle. Samhain had an ample pornography section, both magazine and video, much of it vintage and also worth a lot of money. The armed forces have known for many years that a man's sex drive can put him off task, so the easiest thing to do was cater to it. Harker had no interest in that.

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