Thursday, 7 April 2022

Cut Thy Words Short, By Allah! Needs Must I Slay Thee.



JOSE CHUNG
What is your opinion of hypnosis?

SCULLY
I know that it has its therapeutic value, 
but it has never been proven to enhance memory. 
In fact, it actually worsens it since, since, 
since people in that state 
are prone to confabulation.

JOSE CHUNG
When I was doing research for my book 
"The Caligarian Candidate..."

SCULLY
...one of the greatest thrillers ever written.

JOSE CHUNG
Oh...(He chuckles.) Thank you. 
I was, uh... interested 
in how the C.I.A., 
when conducting their
 MK-Ultra 
mind-control experiments 
back in the '50s, 
had NO IDEA 
how hypnosis worked

SCULLY
Hmm.

JOSE CHUNG
Or -- what it was.

SCULLY
No one still knows.

JOSE CHUNG
Still, as A Storyteller, I'm fascinated
how a person's sense of consciousness can be... 
so transformed by nothing more magical 
than listening to words

Mere words.





 TALE OF THE TRADER AND THE JINNI




It is related, O auspicious King, that there was a merchant of the merchants who had much wealth, and business in various cities. Now on a day he mounted horse and went forth to recover monies in certain towns, and the heat sore oppressed him; so he sat beneath a tree and, putting his hand into his saddle-bags, took thence some broken bread and dry dates and began to break his fast. When he had ended eating the dates he threw away the stones with force and lo! an Ifrit appeared, huge of stature and brandishing a drawn sword, wherewith he approached the merchant and said, "Stand up that I may slay thee, even as thou slewest my 25son!" Asked the merchant, "How have I slain thy son?" and he answered, "When thou atest dates and threwest away the stones they struck my son full in the breast as he was walking by, so that he died forthwith." Quoth the merchant, "Verily from Allah we proceeded and unto Allah are we returning. There is no Majesty, and there is no Might save in Allah, the Glorious, the Great! If I slew thy son, I slew him by chance medley. I pray thee now pardon me." Rejoined the Jinni, "There is no help but I must slay thee." Then he seized him and dragged him along and, casting him to the earth, raised the sword to strike him; whereupon the merchant wept, and said, "I commit my case to Allah," and began repeating these couplets:—


Containeth Time a twain of days, this of blessing that of bane ✿ And holdeth Life a twain of halves, this of pleasure that of pain.

See'st not when blows the hurricane, sweeping stark and striking strong ✿ None save the forest giant feels the suffering of the strain?

How many trees earth nourisheth of the dry and of the green ✿ Yet none but those which bear the fruits for cast of stone complain.

See'st not how corpses rise and float on the surface of the tide ✿ While pearls o' price lie hidden in the deepest of the main!

In Heaven are unnumberèd the many of the stars ✿ Yet ne'er a star but Sun and Moon by eclipse is overta'en.

Well judgest thou the days that saw thy faring sound and well ✿ And countedst not the pangs and pain whereof Fate is ever fain.

The nights have kept thee safe and the safety brought thee pride ✿ But bliss and blessings of the night are 'genderers of bane!

When the merchant ceased repeating his verses the Jinni said to him, "Cut thy words short, by Allah! needs must I slay thee." But the merchant spake him thus, "Know, O thou Ifrit, that I have debts due to me and much wealth and children and a wife and many pledges in hand; so permit me to go home and discharge to every claimant his claim; and I will come back to thee at the head of the new year. Allah be my testimony and surety that I will return to thee; and then thou mayest do with me as thou wilt and Allah is witness to what I say." The Jinni took sure promise of him and let him go; so he returned to his own city and transacted his business and rendered to all men their dues and after informing his wife and children of what had betided him, he appointed a guardian and dwelt with them for a full year. Then he arose, and made the Wuzu-ablution to purify himself before death and took his shroud under his arm and bade farewell to his people, his neighbours and all his kith and kin, and went forth despite his own nose. They then began weeping and wailing and beating their breasts over him; but he travelled until he arrived at the same garden, and the day of his arrival was the head of the New Year. As he sat weeping over what had befallen him, behold, a Shaykh, a very ancient man, drew near leading a chained gazelle; and he saluted that merchant and wishing him long life said, "What is the cause of thy sitting in this place and thou alone and this be a resort of evil spirits?" The merchant related to him what had come to pass with the Ifrit, and the old man, the owner of the gazelle, wondered and said, "By Allah, O brother, thy faith is none other than exceeding faith and thy story right strange; were it graven with gravers on the eye-corners, it were a warner to whoso would be warned." Then seating himself near the merchant he said, "By Allah, O my brother, I will not leave thee until I see what may come to pass with thee and this Ifrit." And presently as he sat and the two were at talk the merchant began to feel fear and terror and exceeding grief and sorrow beyond relief and ever-growing care and extreme despair. And the owner of the gazelle was hard by his side; when behold, a second Shaykh approached them, and with him were two dogs both of greyhound breed and both black. The second old man after saluting them with the salam, also asked them of their tidings and said "What causeth you to sit in this place, a dwelling of the Jánn?" So they told him the tale from beginning to end, and their stay there had not lasted long before there came up a third Shaykh, and with him a she-mule of bright bay coat; and he saluted them and asked them why they were seated in that place. So they told him the story from first to last: and of no avail, O my master, is a twice-told tale! There he sat down with them, and lo! a dust-cloud advanced and a mighty sand-devil appeared amidmost of the waste. Presently the cloud opened and behold, within it was that Jinni hending in hand a drawn sword, while his eyes were shooting fire-sparks of rage. He came up to them and, haling away the merchant from among them, cried to him, "Arise that I may slay thee, as thou slewest my son, the life-stuff of my liver."[44] The merchant wailed and wept, and the three old men began sighing and crying and weeping and wailing with their companion. Presently the first old man (the owner of the gazelle) came out from among them and kissed the hand of the Ifrit and said, "O Jinni, thou Crown of the Kings of the Jann! were I to tell thee the story of me and this gazelle and thou shouldst consider it wondrous wouldst thou give me a third part of this merchant's blood?" Then quoth the Jinni "Even so, O Shaykh! if thou tell me this tale, and I hold it a marvellous, then will I give thee a third of his blood." Thereupon the old man began to tell


THE FIRST SHAYKH'S STORY.

Know O Jinni! that this gazelle is the daughter of my paternal uncle, my own flesh and blood, and I married her when she was a young maid, and I lived with her well-nigh thirty years, yet was I not blessed with issue by her. So I took me a concubine,[45] who brought to me the boon of a male child fair as the full moon, with eyes of lovely shine and eyebrows which formed one line, and limbs of perfect design. Little by little he grew in stature and waxed tall; and when he was a lad fifteen years old, it became needful I should journey to certain cities and I travelled with great store of goods. But the daughter of my uncle (this gazelle) had learned gramarye and egromancy and clerkly craft[46] from her childhood; so she bewitched that son of mine to a calf, and my handmaid (his mother) to a heifer, and made them over to the herdsman's care. Now when I returned after a long time from my journey and asked for my son and his mother, she answered me, saying "Thy slave-girl is dead, and thy son hath fled and I know not whither he is sped." So I remained for a whole year with grieving heart, and streaming eyes until the time came for the Great Festival of Allah.[47] Then sent I to my herdsman bidding him choose for me a fat heifer; and he brought me one which was the damsel, my handmaid, whom this gazelle had ensorcelled. I tucked up my sleeves and skirt and, taking a knife, proceeded to cut her throat, but she lowed aloud and wept bitter tears. Thereat I marvelled and pity seized me and I held my hand, saying to the herd, "Bring me other than this." Then cried my cousin, "Slay her, for I have not a fatter nor a fairer!" Once more I went forward to sacrifice her, but she again lowed aloud, upon which in ruth I refrained and commanded the herdsmen to slay her and flay her. He killed her and skinned her but found in her neither fat nor flesh, only hide and bone; and I repented when penitence availed me naught. I gave her to the herdsman and said to him, "Fetch me a fat calf;" so he brought my son ensorcelled. When the calf saw me, he brake his tether and ran to me, and fawned upon me and wailed and shed tears; so that I took pity on him and said to the herdsman, "Bring me a heifer and let this calf go!" Thereupon my cousin (this gazelle) called aloud at me, saying, "Needs must thou kill this calf; this is a holy day and a blessed, 29whereon naught is slain save what be perfect-pure; and we have not amongst our calves any fatter or fairer than this!" Quoth I, "Look thou upon the condition of the heifer which I slaughtered at thy bidding and how we turn from her in disappointment and she profited us on no wise; and I repent with an exceeding repentance of having killed her: so this time I will not obey thy bidding for the sacrifice of this calf." Quoth she, "By Allah the Most Great, the Compassionating, the Compassionate! there is no help for it; thou must kill him on this holy day, and if thou kill him not to me thou art no man and I to thee am no wife." Now when I heard those hard words, not knowing her object I went up to the calf, knife in hand——And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.[48] Then quoth her sister to her, "How fair is thy tale, and how grateful, and how sweet and how tasteful!" And Shahrazad answered her, "What is this to that I could tell thee on the coming night, were I to live and the King would spare me?" Then said the King in himself, "By Allah, I will not slay her, until I shall have heard the rest of her tale." So they slept the rest of that night in mutual embrace till day fully brake. Then the King went forth to his audience-hall[49] and the Wazir went up with his daughter's shroud under his arm. The King issued his orders, and promoted this and deposed that, until the end of the day; and he told the Wazir no whit of what had happened. But the Minister wondered thereat with exceeding wonder; and when the Court broke up King Shahryar entered his palace.


Now when it was the Second Night,

said Dunyazad to her sister Shahrazad, "O my sister, finish for us that story of the Merchant and the Jinni;" and she answered, "With joy and goodly gree, if the King permit me." Then quoth The King, "Tell thy tale;" and Shahrazad began in these words: It hath reached me, O auspicious King and Heaven-directed Ruler!

Wednesday, 6 April 2022

Babel




QUARK
Food. Dabo. Drinks. 
Money. Hand. Mine. 
Give. 

SISKO
Well, Quark, I see 
even you couldn't 
weasel your way 
clear of this one. 

QUARK
You underestimate the Ferengi 
immune system, Commander. 
I'm merely here visiting 
my less fortunate customers 
to make sure they're 
not faking the illness 
to avoid paying their bills. 

SISKO
No one's that devious. 


QUARK
I am. 

You. Gold. Owe-Me. 
I. Now, Give!









HARMONY






Now this Traken Web of Harmony is broken. 


I am Free!



Dr. Disco : 

(to The Master) 

The last time I saw you, 

you were on your way to Gallifrey.


MASTER: 

Well, I didn't stay. 

Why would I stay?


Dr. Disco : 

So they cured your little condition and kicked you out.


MASTER: 

It was a mutual kicking-me-out.

(Bored Missy is repairing her lip gloss.)


Dr. Disco : 

Somehow you ended up in this dump. 

You never could drive.


MASTER: 

Meh. You wouldn't understand.


Dr. Disco :

Well, let's see how I do :-


Your TARDIS got stuck. 

You killed a lot of people, 

took over The City, 

lived like A King until 

They rebelled against 

Your Cruelty. 


And ever since then 

You've been hiding out, 

probably in disguise, 

because everybody knows 

your stupid round face.



MASTER: 

Round?


MISSY: 

It's a little bit.


MASTER: 

Shut up! Do you want to see My City, Doctor

Do you want to see what happens when you're too late to save your little friend and everybody else?


(He wheels the Doctor to the parapet to watch the columns of people being escorted by patients.)


MASTER: 

See? This used to be just a hospital. 

Now it's mass production. 

The Cyber Foundries.


MISSY: 

The whole City is a Machine 

to turn people into Cybermen. 

What do you think? Exciting, isn't it? 

Watching the Cybermen getting started.


Dr. Disco : 

They always get started. 

They happen everywhere there's people


Mondas, Telos, Earth, 

Planet 14, Marinus. 


Like sewage and smartphones 

and Donald Trump, 

some things are 

just inevitable.


(Missy notices an aerial is pulsing out a signal.)


MISSY: 

Doctor. Doctor, have you done something? 

What's happening?


Dr. Disco : 

People get the Cybermen wrong. 

There's no evil plan, no evil genius.

Just parallel evolution.


MASTER: 

Doctor, what have you done?


Dr. Disco : 

(People + Technology) — Humanity. 


The Internet, Cyberspace, Cybermen. 


Always read the comments

because one day, They'll be an army.


MISSY: 

Look, they're coming. 

They're coming for us!


MASTER: 

This doesn't make any sense!


Dr. Disco : 

Doesn't it?


MASTER

These Cybermen are primitive. 

They're programmed to 

track human beings and convert them. 

They home in on human life signs only.


Dr. Disco :

You two, you should know by now. 

When you're winning, 

and I'm in the room, 

you're missing something.


MASTER

What have we missed?


Dr. Disco :

You shouldn't have hit me, Missy. 


I was waiting for my chance. 


Computer, containing the algorithm defining human life signs. 


I only had time to change one detail. 

A single number. 

One to a two. 

One heart to two hearts. 

I expanded the definition of Humanity. 


Took 'em a while to update the net, but here we go. 

Welcome to the menu!


(Cybermen are stomping up the stairs to the now floodlit roof.)


Dr. Disco : 

Now they think that we count as humans, 

and they're going to fix that in a hurry!


(Missy sonicks the doors shut. The Master sonicks a Cyberman that has come up the fire escape and sets its chest unit on fire.)


MASTER: 

There must be other ways up here. 

We can't cover them all.


Dr. Disco :

You can't fight a whole city. 

You know the stories. 

There's only ever been one way 

to stop that many Cybermen. Me!

(The Master sonicks another Cyberman then goes to the Doctor.)


MASTER: 

Then do it. 

Stop them!


Dr. Disco : 

Begging for your life already? 

That's a new record.


MASTER: 

I'm not begging you

I'd rather die than beg

you


Dr. Disco : 

Lucky day, then.


MASTER: 

I can do this. 

They're not difficult. 

They're Cybermen.


Dr. Disco :

Knock yourself out.


(Missy pirouettes and KO's the Master with her parasol.)


MISSY: 

Your wish is my command.


(She unties the Doctor.)


MISSY: 

I was secretly on your side 

all along, you silly sausage.


Dr. Disco :

Is that True?


MISSY: 

Don't spoil the moment.


Dr. Disco :

Seriously, I need to know. Is that True?


(He holds Missy's hand.)


MISSY

It's hard to say. 

I, I'm in two minds. 

Fortunately, the other one's unconscious.




MASTER: 

I landed here. 

I had trouble taking off.


MISSY: 

The black hole?


MASTER: 

Too close to the event horizon.


MISSY: 

And you screwed up. 

You went too fast.


MASTER: 

I blew the dematerialisation circuit.


MISSY: 

Which reminds me. 

A funny thing happened to me once.


MASTER: 

What?


(She grabs his lapels and pushes him against a pillar.)


MISSY

A very long time ago, a very scary lady threw me against a wall and made me promise to always, always carry a spare dematerialisation circuit. 


I don't remember much about her now but, she must have made quite an impression.


(And takes a dematerialisation circuit out of her jacket pocket.)


MASTER

You know you basically have me to thank for this.


MISSY

You're welcome.


MASTER

By the way, is it wrong that I er —


(They both glance down.)


MISSY: 

Yes. Very.

Go for The Mountain!




Phoebe :
Hey. Don’t we get a phone call?

Sure you do.
Who you gonna call?

Make it quick.

[♪♪♪]

Do you experience feelings of dread in your basement or attic?

Have you or any of your family ever seen a spook, specter, or ghost?

If the answer is yes, then don’t wait another minute.

Pick up your phone and call the professionals.





[RINGING]

[GROWLS]
Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters :
Ray’s Occult, and, 
we’re closed.

PHOEBE
Wait! I only get one phone call.
I’m… in prison.

Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters:
Hmm.
The slammer, huh? 
I’ve been there myself.

I’m not a lawyer, 
but I’m listening.

PHOEBE:
Are you Ray Stantz, 
The Ghostbuster?

Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters :
….and now I’m hanging up.

PHOEBE:
Hang on. Please.
I… I’m calling about Egon Spengler.

Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters:
…..Egon Spengler 
can rot in hell.

PHOEBE:
…..He died last week.

Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters:
[SIGHS]
Oh, man….
No kidding.

PHOEBE:
Weren’t you two friends?

Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters :
That was a long time ago.

PHOEBE:
What happened to you guys?

Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters:
[SIGHS, SCOFFS]
Oh, well, look, when we started, 
busting ghosts was a gas.

The Economy was Good. 
Reagan Years.
People Believed in Us.

Then things got slow, 
hauntings got thin.

Venkman thought we 
did Our Job too well.

We could barely keep up 
our mortgage.

Some actor bought up 
most of Tribeca, 
and we lost the firehouse.
It’s a Starbucks now.

PHOEBE:
So then you all just 
walked away?

Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters:
Peter went back to academia.
He’s at SUNY Cortland now. 
He’s a Professor Emeritus.
He teaches Advertising and Promotion.

Winston went into finance.
He worked hard, 
coined a fortune and…
And I’m here.

PHOEBE:
Well, what about Egon?

Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters:
Well, he wasn’t helping.
We went from ten calls a week 
to one if we were lucky.

Egon started to tell people 
that their ghost problems 
didn’t matter because 
The World was 
coming to An End.

He got spooky
Freaked me out.

One morning, I go to work 
and Ecto-1, our old Cadillac, is gone, 
his neutrona thrower, collider pack, 
all the traps, 16 ounces 
of fuel isotope, all gone!

He cleaned us out.
Now we were the dead ones.

PHOEBE:
Don’t you think he 
had a reason?

Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters:
He phoned me about ten years later, 
some small town in Oklahoma :
He kept rambling about 
the rising storm” and 
the huge psychic tornado” 
that was gonna 
consume humanity 
in darkness forever.
[SIGHS] 
And, kid, I wanted to believe.

PHOEBE:
You don’t understand —
There is this mountain 
and it has these ancient carvings…

Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters :
Kid, there are a lot of mountains with ancient carvings.
Take a little advice —
Don’t go chasing ghosts.

PHOEBE:
….Egon Spengler was 
My Grandfather.

Time’s up.

Dr. Ray Stantz,
The Heart of The Ghostbusters :
Hey, hello?

[CLICKING SWITCH HOOK]

Keep Your Masks On!

“Kid, there are a lot of mountains 
with ancient carvings.
Take a little advice —
Don’t go chasing ghosts.



Don't! You'll be poisoned!

Listen, there's nothing wrong 
with the air around here.
The Army's getting us out because they don't want any witnesses.

If The Army doesn't want Us here, it's none of our business.

We wanted to see The Mountain.

It was a coincidence 
when I painted it.

You can take it off!
The air here is better 
than in Los Angeles.
Listen. How many of you people 
are for getting out of here?


I don't know what's happening either.
I must find out.
For every one of these anxious,
anguished people who've come here
there must be hundreds more touched by The Vision who never made it here,
simply because they 
never watch The Television.
Or perhaps they watched it, 
but never made 
the psychic connection.

It's a coincidence.
It's not scientific.

Listen to me, Major Walsh...
...it is an event-sociological.

But Don’t F**k with My Solar Plexus. I Need it.








If You're Goin' to Kill Me, Kill Me










By the mid-1970s, Phil Spector was on a downward slide commercially. Spector had created hits such as "Be My Baby" and "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'" with his "wall of sound" production technique in the 1960s, and had some success in the early 1970s by producing albums by John Lennon and George Harrison; however, his behaviour became increasingly erratic.

The craziness would escalate when Spector reunited with Lennon to record a rock and roll oldies project called Roots, which would eventually come out in 1975 under the title Rock 'n' Roll. The sessions took place in a chaotic fog of drugs, booze, and hangers-on as the equally troubled Lennon drank his way through his infamous "lost weekend". 

In the 2003 book Phil Spector: Wall of Pain, biographer Dave Thompson recounts one famous incident when Spector pulled a revolver and fired it into the studio ceiling. "Listen Phil, if you're goin' to kill me, kill me", Lennon remarked dryly, "but don't fuck with me ears. I need 'em."

Tuesday, 5 April 2022

The Soviets Did Not Find God in Outer Space.





















THE SEEING EYE

by C.S. Lewis.


“The Russians, I am told, report that they have not found God in outer space. On the other hand, a good many people in many different times and countries claim to have found God, or been found by God, here on Earth.


  The conclusion some want us to draw from these data is that God does not exist. As a corollary, those who think they have met Him on Earth were suffering from a delusion.


  But other conclusions might be drawn:


  1. We have not yet gone far enough in space. There had been ships on the Atlantic for a good time before America was discovered.


  2. God does exist but is locally confined to this planet.


  3. The Russians did find God in Space without knowing it, because they lacked the requisite apparatus for detecting Him.


  4. God does exist but is not an object either located in a particular part of space nor diffused, as we once thought 'ether' was, throughout space.

   


  The first two conclusions do not interest me. The sort of religion for which they could be a defence would be a religion for savages: the belief in a local deity who can be contained in a particular temple, island or grove. That, in fact, seems to be the sort of religion about which the Russians - or some Russians, and a good many people in The West - are being irreligious. It is not in the least disquieting that no astronauts have discovered a god of that sort. The really disquieting thing would be if they had.


  The third and fourth conclusions are the ones for my money. Looking for God - or Heaven - by exploring Space is like reading or seeing all Shakespeare's plays in the hope that you will find Shakespeare as one of the characters or Stratford as one of the places. 


Shakespeare is in one sense present at every moment in every play. But he is never present in the same way as Falstaff or Lady Macbeth. Nor is he diffused through the play like a gas.


  If there were an idiot who thought plays existed on their own, without an author (not to mention actors, producer, manager, stagehands and what not), our belief in Shakespeare would not be much affected by his saying, quite truly, that he had studied all the plays and never found Shakespeare in them.


  The rest of us, in varying degrees according to our perceptiveness, 'found Shakespeare' in the plays. But it is a quite different sort of 'finding' from anything our poor friend has in mind.


  Even he has in reality been in some way affected by Shakespeare, but without knowing it. He lacked the necessary apparatus for detecting Shakespeare.


  Now of course this is only an analogy. I am not suggesting at all that the existence of God is as easily established as the existence of Shakespeare. My point is that, if God does exist, He is related to the universe more as an author is related to a play than as one object in the universe is related to another.


  If God created the universe, He created space-time, which is to the universe as the metre is to a poem or the key is to music. To look for Him as one item within the framework which He Himself invented is nonsensical.


  If God - such a God as any adult religion believes in - exists, mere movement in space will never bring you any nearer to Him or any farther from Him than you are at this very moment. You can neither reach Him nor avoid Him by travelling to Alpha Centauri or even to other galaxies. A fish is no more, and no less, in the sea after it has swum a thousand miles than it was when it set out.

  How, then, it may be asked, can we either reach or avoid Him?

  The avoiding, in many times and places, has proved so difficult that a very large part of the human race failed to achieve it. But in our own time and place it is extremely easy. Avoid silence, avoid solitude, avoid any train of thought that leads off the beaten track. Concentrate on money, sex, status, health and (above all) on your own grievances. Keep the radio on. Live in a crowd. Use plenty of sedation. If you must read books. select them very carefully. But you'd be safer to stick to the papers. You'll find the advertisements helpful; especially those with a sexy or a snobbish appeal.

  About the reaching, I am a far less reliable guide. That is because I never had the experience of looking for God. It was the other way round; He was the hunter (or so it seemed to me) and I was the deer. He stalked me like a redskin, took unerring aim, and fired. And I am very thankful that that is how the first (conscious) meeting occurred. It forearms one against subsequent fears that the whole thing was only wish fulfilment. Something one didn't wish for can hardly be that.

  But it is significant that this long-evaded encounter happened at a time when I was making a serious effort to obey my conscience. No doubt it was far less serious than I supposed, but it was the most serious I had made for a long time.

  One of the first results of such an effort is to bring your picture of yourself down to something nearer life-size. And presently you begin to wonder whether you are yet, in any full sense, a person at all; whether you are entitled to call yourself 'I' (it is a sacred name). In that way, the process is like being psychoanalysed, only cheaper I mean, in dollars; in some other ways it may be more costly. You find that what you called yourself is only a thin film on the surface of an unsounded and dangerous sea. But not merely dangerous. Radiant things, delights and inspirations, come to the surface as well as snarling resentments and nagging lusts.

  One's ordinary self is, then, a mere facade. There's a huge area out of sight behind it.

  And then, if one listens to the physicists, one discovers that the same is true of all the things around us. These tables and chairs, this magazine, the trees, clouds and mountains are facades. Poke (scientifically) into them and you find the unimaginable structure of the atom. That is, in the long run, you find mathematical formulas.

  There are you (whatever you means) sitting reading. Out there (whatever THERE means) is a white page with black marks on it. And both are facades. Behind both lies - well, Whatever-it-is. The psychologists, and the theologians, though they use different symbols, equally use symbols when they try to probe the depth behind the facade called You. That is, they can't really say 'It is this', but they can say 'It is in some way like this.' And the physicists, trying to probe behind the other facade, can give you only mathematics. And the mathematics may be true about the reality, but it can hardly be the reality itself, any more than contour lines are real mountains.

  I am not in the least blaming either set of experts for this state of affairs. They make progress. They are always discovering things. If governments make a bad use of the physicists' discoveries, or if novelists and biographers make a bad use of the psychologists' discoveries, the experts are not to blame. The point, however, is that every fresh discovery, far from dissipating, deepens the mystery.

  Presently, if you are a person of a certain sort, if you are one who has to believe that all things which exist must have unity it will seem to you irresistibly probable that what lies ultimately behind the one facade also lies ultimately behind the other. And then - again, if you are that sort of person - you may come to be convinced that your contact with that mystery in the area you call yourself is a good deal closer than your contact through what you call matter. For in the one case I, the ordinary, conscious I, am continuous with the unknown depth.

  And after that, you may come (some do) to believe that that voice -like all the rest, I must speak symbolically - that voice which speaks in your conscience and in some of your intensest joys, which is sometimes so obstinately silent, sometimes so easily silenced, and then at other times so loud and emphatic, is in fact the closest contact you have with the mystery; and therefore finally to be trusted, obeyed, feared and desired more than all other things. But still, if you are a different sort of person, you will not come to this conclusion.

  I hope everyone sees how this is related to the astronautical question from which we started. The process I have been sketching may equally well occur, or fail to occur, wherever you happen to be. I don't mean that all religious and all irreligious people have either taken this step or refused to take it. Once religion and its opposite are in the world - and they have both been in it for a very long time - the majority in both camps will be simply conformists. Their belief or disbelief will result from their upbringing and from the prevailing tone of the circles they live in. They will have done no hunting for God and no flying for God on their own. But if no minorities who did these things on their own existed I presume that the conforming majorities would not exist either. (Don't imagine I'm despising these majorities. I am sure the one contains better Christians than I am; the other, nobler atheists than I was.) Space-travel really has nothing to do with the matter. To some, God is discoverable everywhere; to others, nowhere. Those who do not find Him on earth are unlikely to find Him in space. (Hang it all, we're in space already; every year we go a huge circular tour in space.) But send a saint up in a spaceship and he'll find God in space as he found God on earth. Much depends on the seeing eye.

  And this is especially confirmed by my own religion, which is Christianity. When I said a while ago that it was nonsensical to look for God as one item within His own work, the universe, some readers may have wanted to protest. They wanted to say, 'But surely, according to Christianity, that is just what did once happen? Surely the central doctrine is that God became man and walked about among other men in Palestine? If that is not appearing as an item in His own work, what is it?'

  The objection is much to the point. To meet it, I must readjust my old analogy of the play. One might imagine a play in which the dramatist introduced himself as a character into his own play and was pelted off the stage as an impudent impostor by the other characters. It might be rather a good play; if I had any talent for the theatre I'd try my hand at writing it. But since (as far as I know) such a play doesn't exist, we had better change to a narrative work; a story into which the author puts himself as one of the characters.

  We have a real instance of this in Dante's Divine Comedy. Dante is (1) the muse outside the poem who is inventing the whole thing, and (2) a character inside the poem, whom the other characters meet and with whom they hold conversations. Where the analogy breaks down is that everything the poem contains is merely imaginary, in that the characters have no free will. They (the characters) can say to Dante only what Dante (the poet) has decided to put into their mouths. I do not think we humans are related to God in that way. I think God can make things which not only - like a poet's or novelist's characters -seem to have a partially independent life, but really have it. But the analogy furnishes a crude model of the Incarnation in two respects: (1) Dante the poet and Dante the character are in a sense one, but in another sense two. This is a faint and far-off suggestion of what theologians mean by the 'union of the two natures' (divine and human) in Christ. (2) The other people in the poem meet and see and hear Dante; but they have not even the faintest suspicion that he is making the whole world in which they exist and has a life of his own, outside it, independent of it.

  It is the second point which is most relevant. For the Christian story is that Christ was perceived to be God by very few people indeed; perhaps, for a time only by St Peter, who would also, and for the same reason, have found God in space. For Christ said to Peter, 'Flesh and blood have not taught you this.' The methods of science do not discover facts of that order.

  Indeed the expectation of finding God by astronautics would be very like trying to verify or falsify the divinity of Christ by taking specimens of His blood or dissecting Him. And in their own way they did both. But they were no wiser than before. What is required is a certain faculty of recognition.

  If you do not at all know God, of course you will not recognize Him, either in Jesus or in outer space.

  The fact that we have not found God in space does not, then, bother me in the least. Nor am I much concerned about the 'space race' between America and Russia. The more money, time, skill and zeal they both spend on that rivalry, the less, we may hope, they will have to spend on armaments. Great powers might be more usefully, but are seldom less dangerously, employed than in fabricating costly objects and flinging them, as you might say, overboard. Good luck to it! It is an excellent way of letting off steam.

  But there are three ways in which space-travel will bother me if it reaches the stage for which most people are hoping.

  The first is merely sentimental, or perhaps aesthetic. No moonlit night will ever be the same to me again if, as I look up at that pale disc, I must think 'Yes: up there to the left is the Russian area, and over there to the right is the American bit. And up at the top is the place which is now threatening to produce a crisis.' The immemorial Moon - the Moon of the myths, the poets, the lovers - will have been taken from us forever. Part of our mind, a huge mass of our emotional wealth, will have gone. Artemis, Diana, the silver planet belonged in that fashion to all humanity: he who first reaches it steals something from us all.

  Secondly, a more practical issue will arise when, if ever, we discover rational creatures on other planets. I think myself, this is a very remote contingency. The balance of probability is against life on any other planet of the solar system. We shall hardly find it nearer than the stars. And even if we reach the Moon we shall be no nearer to stellar travel than the first man who paddled across a river was to crossing the Pacific.

  This thought is welcome to me because, to be frank, I have no pleasure in looking forward to a meeting between humanity and any alien rational species. I observe how the white man has hitherto treated the black, and how, even among civilized men, the stronger have treated the weaker. If we encounter in the depth of space a race, however innocent and amiable. which is technologically weaker than ourselves, I do not doubt that the same revolting story will be repeated. We shall enslave, deceive, exploit or exterminate; at the very least we shall corrupt it with our vices and infect it with our diseases.

  We are not fit yet to visit other worlds. We have filled our own with massacre, torture, syphilis, famine, dust bowls and with all that is hideous to ear or eye. Must we go on to infect new realms?

  Of course we might find a species stronger than ourselves. In that case we shall have met, if not God, at least God's judgement in space. But once more the detecting apparatus will be inadequate. We shall think it just our bad luck if righteous creatures rightly destroy those who come to reduce them to misery.

  It was in part these reflections that first moved me to make my own small contributions to science fiction. In those days writers in that genre almost automatically represented the inhabitants of other worlds as monsters and the terrestrial invaders as good. Since then the opposite set-up has become fairly common. If I could believe that I had in any degree contributed to this change, I should be a proud man. (Note: The reference is to Lewis's interplanetary novels, Out of the Silent Planet , Perelandra and That Hideous Strength . He was probably the first writer to introduce the idea of having fallen terrestrial invaders discover on other planets -in his own books, Mars (Out of the Silent Planet) and Venus (Perelandra) unfallen rational beings who were in need of redemption and with nothing to learn from us. See also his essay, 'Will We Lose God in Outer Space?' Christian Herald, vol. LXXXI (April, 1958), pp. 19, 74-6.) The same problem, by the way, is beginning to threaten us as regards the dolphins. I don't think it has yet been proved that they are rational. But if they are, we have no more right to enslave them than to enslave our fellow-men. And some of us will continue to say this, but we shall be mocked.

  The third thing is this. Some people are troubled, and others are delighted, at the idea of finding not one, but perhaps innumerable rational species scattered about the universe. In both cases the emotion arises from a belief that such discoveries would be fatal to Christian theology. For it will be said that theology connects the Incarnation of God with the Fall and Redemption of man. And this would seem to attribute to our species and to our little planet a central position in cosmic history which is not credible if rationally inhabited planets are to be had by the million.

  Older readers will, with me, notice the vast change in astronomical speculation which this view involves. When we were boys all astronomers, so far as I know, impressed upon us the antecedent improbabilities of life in any part of the universe whatever. It was not thought unlikely that this earth was the solitary exception to a universal reign of the inorganic. Now Professor Hoyle, and many with him, say that in so vast a universe life must have occurred in times and places without number. The interesting thing is that I have heard both these estimates used as arguments against Christianity.

  Now it seems to me that we must find out more than we can at present know - which is nothing - about hypothetical rational species before we can say what theological corollaries or difficulties their discovery would raise.

  We might, for example, find a race which was, like us, rational but, unlike us, innocent - no wars nor any other wickedness among them; all peace and good fellowship. I don't think any Christian would be puzzled to find that they knew no story of an Incarnation or Redemption, and might even find our story hard to understand or accept if we told it to them. There would have been no Redemption in such a world because it would not have needed redeeming. 'They that are whole need not the physician.' The sheep that has never strayed need not be sought for. We should have much to learn from such people and nothing to teach them. If we were wise, we should fall at their feet. But probably we should be unable to 'take it'. We'd find some reason for exterminating them.

  Again, we might find a race which, like ours, contained both good and bad. And we might find that for them, as for us, something had been done: that at some point in their history some great interference for the better, believed by some of them to be supernatural, had been recorded, and that its effects, though often impeded and perverted, were still alive among them. It need not, as far as I can see, have conformed to the pattern of Incarnation, Passion, Death and Resurrection. God may have other ways - how should I be able to imagine them? - of redeeming a lost world. And Redemption in that alien mode might not be easily recognizable by our missionaries, let alone by our atheists.

  We might meet a species which, like us, needed Redemption but had not been given it. But would this fundamentally be more of a difficulty than any Christian's first meeting with a new tribe of savages? It would be our duty to preach the Gospel to them. For if they are rational, capable both of sin and repentance, they are our brethren, whatever they look like. Would this spreading of the Gospel from earth, through man, imply a preeminence for earth and man? Not in any real sense. If a thing is to begin at all, it must begin at some particular time and place; and any time and place raises the question: 'Why just then and, just there?' One can conceive an extraterrestrial development of Christianity so brilliant that earth's place in the story might sink to that of a prologue.

  Finally, we might find a race which was strictly diabolical - no tiniest spark felt in them from which any goodness could ever be coaxed into the feeblest glow; all of them incurably perverted through and through. What then? We Christians had always been told that there were creatures like that in existence. True, we thought they were all incorporeal spirits. A minor readjustment thus becomes necessary.

  But all this is in the realm of fantastic speculation. We are trying to cross a bridge, not only before we come to it, but even before we know there is a river that needs bridging.