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Mike
took
it
to
Jubal
,
stood
waiting
.
"
Well
?
"
Jubal
growled
.
"
Do
you
want
to
go
,
or
don
’
t
you
?
You
don
’
t
have
to
attend
a
Fosterite
service
.
We
can
tell
’
em
to
go
to
hell
.
"
So
a
Checker
Cab
with
a
human
driver
(
Harshaw
refused
to
trust
his
life
to
an
autocab
)
picked
them
up
the
next
Sunday
morning
and
delivered
Mike
,
Jill
,
and
Jubal
to
a
public
landing
fiat
just
outside
the
sacred
grounds
of
Archangel
Foster
Tabernacle
of
the
Church
of
the
New
Revelation
.
Jubal
had
been
trying
to
warn
Mike
all
the
way
to
church
;
of
what
,
Mike
was
not
certain
.
He
had
listened
,
he
always
listened
–
but
the
landscape
below
them
tugged
for
attention
,
too
;
he
had
compromised
by
storing
what
Jubal
said
.
"
Now
look
,
boy
,
"
Jubal
had
admonished
,
"
these
Fosterites
are
after
your
money
.
That
’
s
all
right
,
most
everybody
is
after
your
money
;
you
just
have
to
be
firm
.
Your
money
and
the
prestige
of
having
the
Man
from
Mars
join
their
church
.
They
’
re
going
to
work
on
you
–
and
you
have
to
be
firm
about
that
,
too
.
"
"
Beg
pardon
?
"
"
Damn
it
,
I
don
’
t
believe
you
’
ve
been
listening
.
"
"
I
am
sorry
,
Jubal
.
"
"
Well
?
look
at
it
this
way
.
Religion
is
a
solace
to
many
people
and
it
is
even
conceivable
that
some
religion
,
somewhere
,
really
is
Ultimate
Truth
.
But
in
many
cases
,
being
religious
is
merely
a
form
of
conceit
.
The
Bible
Belt
faith
in
which
I
was
brought
up
encouraged
me
to
think
that
I
was
better
than
the
rest
of
the
world
;
I
was
‘
saved
’
and
they
were
‘
damned
’
–
we
were
in
a
state
of
grace
and
the
rest
of
the
world
were
‘
heathens
’
and
by
‘
heathen
’
they
meant
such
people
as
our
brother
Mahmoud
.
It
meant
that
an
ignorant
,
stupid
lout
who
seldom
bathed
and
planted
his
corn
by
the
phase
of
the
Moon
could
claim
to
know
the
final
answers
of
the
Universe
.
That
entitled
him
to
look
down
his
nose
at
everybody
else
.
Our
hymn
book
was
loaded
with
such
arrogance
–
mindless
,
conceited
,
self
-
congratulation
on
how
cozy
we
were
with
the
Almighty
and
what
a
high
opinion
he
had
of
us
and
us
alone
,
and
what
hell
everybody
else
was
going
to
catch
come
Judgment
Day
.
We
peddled
the
only
authentic
brand
of
Lydia
Pinkham
’
s
-
"
"
Jubal
!
"
Jill
said
sharply
.
"
He
doesn
’
t
grok
it
.
"
"
Uh
?
Sorry
.
I
got
carried
away
.
My
folks
tried
to
make
a
preacher
out
of
me
and
missed
by
a
narrow
margin
;
I
guess
it
still
shows
.
"
