Bevins: I’m telling you it’s time to see why the booths work, why the people go bock week after week, what .they gain….
O’Brien: In the end they will have gained only hell….
Joe: Gentlemen, let me ask you another question here. Dr. Bevins, something you said earlier has been nagging at me. You said the people are hooked after a visit or two. Exactly what do you mean by that? Addicted, as with drugs?
Bevins: Yes. I think so. let’s trace the history of the listener’s Booths a bit, shall we? At first there weren’t many of them. Cox preached that his converts should go to them and unburden themselves. Of course this was a ruse. He simply didn’t have the staff at that time to hear all the people who come forward. No doubt he was thinking it terms of what Bishop O’Brien represents. A place with a priest to hear confessions and to advise afterward. But priests are expensive. He improvised. Did you know that in the beginning he paid absolutely nothing for the services of the Listeners? Most of the booths were donated also. He. scrambled his listeners so that those from Boston heard people in southern California; people from Florida manned the Washington booths, like that. And it worked. They didn’t have to be trained, and they were free. Converts themselves, eager to serve the church. We ran some experiments in the Arlington area when the booths opened there. We sent in some of our bright young psychology majors and instructed them to relate rather bizarre behavior. No reaction on the port of the listeners. The accounts become more and more loaded, actual criminal activities were recounted, and no reaction. After the testing period ended, questioning the subjects disclosed that they had begun to look forward to the sessions, that they were reluctant to discontinue them. Several of the subjects guessed that a subtle hypnosis hod been used on them to make them want to return. One suggested a gas, but the containers we sent in with them showed nothing but plain air. Of course, this was in the early period when there were still listeners. Later, after they began to use empty booths we did the same experiment, and found that the subjects were even more drown to the confessionals. We had come up with new and better sample units to obtain air samples, but again could find nothing that could account for the effect. Several theories were advanced to explain this behavior. Very briefly I’ll sum them….
O’Brien: Please remember, Joe, that Dr. Bevins said theories. None of this has been proven, and his own tests have been almost completely invalidated by the revelation that some of the subjects he used in the experiments were either at the time of the experiments, or shortly afterward, members of the Voice of God Church. One wonders about their observations, how much objectivity they showed, and so on.
Joe: Is that right, Dr. Bevins?
Bevins: Not just like that, Joe. That’s coloring it a bit. Now the theories—
O’Brien: What do you mean, I colored it. Were some of the subjects members?
Bevins: Let me get on with—
Joe: Why not answer the question first? Were they?
Bevins: In any sample of the population you will find that a certain percent of those being tested belong to certain religious organizations….
Joe: Were they members of the Voice of God Church?
Bevins: Some of them later joined. Now about the—
Joe: When did they join? How many of them joined?
Bevins: Are you more interested in the conversion of a few students or in the theories proposed by eminent scientists to account for the curious effects of the listener’s Booths on those who visit them?
Joe: Were the theories advanced on the basis of information garnered from any of the students who were members of the Voice of God Church? Just yes or no, if you will, Doctor. It’s a simple question.
Bevins: Well, yes, but to explain—
Joe: Wouldn’t you say that that fact invalidates whatever theories you might—
Bevins: (Crackle, crackle) it! There’s no other way to investigate the (crackle crackle) Booths! A certain number of the investigators always become converted!
O’Brien: You see, Joe, it all goes back to the innate need of man to unburden himself and then to crone for his transgressions. Unfortunately, with listener’s Booths only the first half of that need is satisfied….
Bevins: Wait a minute! Have you gone to one of the booths, Bishop O’Brien?
O’Brien: Of course not!
Bevins: Well, I have, and I know that some sort of gas is used there, or some subliminal suggestion to return that is almost too strong to resist….
Joe: You want to go bock, Dr. Bevins?
Bevins: (Crackle, crackle, crackle) I do! But I’m able to resist it because I can understand….
Joe: I see, Dr. Bevins. Wouldn’t you say, Bishop O’Brien, that a new look should be given to the work that has been done by the doctor and his students….
Chapter Seventeen
BLAKE-TEAGUE arrived in Covington by special Church plane in October. The countryside was dull brown. The leaves had fallen, brittle and lifeless, ahead of season for lack of water. Only at the temple was the grass still green, the ornamental trees still luxurious-looking, and chrysanthemums in full bloom. The grounds with the precisely measured terraces, the geometry of hundreds of white marble steps, the shrubs, bushes, flowers arranged mathematically to perfection looked like a postcard. The plane came straight down so that the temple grew from a tiny glare of white to a structure that filled the horizon when the plane finally touched ground. There were seventy-five initiates aboard, some of them Teague’s age, some younger, some much older. All of them were awed. The initiates were lined up and led to the dorm where the new arrivals were kept until the lengthy testing program was concluded.
Blake-Teague knew that this would be the tricky part of it. As the weeding-out process advanced and the numbers were lessened, the chances of successfuly maintaining his masquerade diminished. He had very carefully established James Teague as a registered person with the data bank; he would pass a routine retina check, but not a fingerprint check, so if they went too far back, Blake Daniels would fall out in their laps. He muttered and mumbled and hoped they wouldn’t get that thorough with anyone as subordinate as he was. He counted on their being less suspicious here in the inner sanctum than they were at the ship entrance. He knew that he came highly recommended. He passed their IQ tests, no higher than 100, and the aptitude tests that proved he was fit to farm and run machinery but had no aptitude for any of the arts or sciences. His personality profile would show a man ready to bully or to submit to bullying. And throughout it all, he showed a streak now and then of a psychopathic personality that was ready to emerge at any time. At the end of the testing period he was given an assignment, and there was no time for him to escape and visit the ship before he was sent from the temple. As an accepted member now, he would be allowed to make the pilgrimage back whenever he was free to do so.
The day that James Teague-Blake Daniels left the temple to fulfill his first task for the Church, Winifred Harvey was taken to the headquarters building on Mount Laurel. Winifred looked about curiously as she deplaned. There was the airstrip, and the control building at the side of it, completely encircled by magnificent hardwood trees: brick red and brown oaks, blazing maples, yellow birches. The plateau on the side of the mountain had one road leading from it, a narrow unpaved road that forked with one branch leading downward through the forest, the other part winding upward toward the summit. Along the road scarlet sassafras trees and shiny green honeysuckle and mountain laurel made a dense mass that appeared impenetrable. It was very lovely, and very lonely-looking.
Obie met her personally. “Dr. Harvey, it is nice to see you again. It’s many, many years since our first meeting.”