"That looks a bit uncomfortable," he remarked.
"Foam-rubber cushion," replied the god, smiling. "You may smoke, if you wish."
"Thanks." Sam drew his pipe from the pouch at his belt, filled it, tamped it carefully and struck it to fire.
"What have you been doing all this time," asked the god, "since you left the roost of Heaven?"
"Cultivating my own gardens," said Sam.
"We could have used you here," said Brahma, "in our hydroponics section. For that matter, perhaps we still could. Tell me more of your stay among men."
"Tiger hunts, border disputes with neighboring kingdoms, keeping up the morale of the harem, a bit of botanical research—things like that—the stuff of life," said Sam. "Now my powers slacken, and I seek once more my youth. But to obtain it again, I understand that I must have my brains strained. Is that true?"
"After a fashion," said Brahma.
"To what end, may I ask?"
"That wrong shall fail and right prevail," said the god, smiling.
"Supposing I'm wrong," asked Sam, "how shall I fail?"
"You shall be required to work off your karmic burden in a lesser form."
"Have you any figures readily available as to the percentage that fails, vis-á-vis that which prevails?"
"Think not less of me in my omniscience," said Brahma, stifling a yawn with his scepter, "if I admit to having, for the moment, forgotten these figures."
Sam chuckled. "You say you have need of a gardener there in the Celestial City?"
"Yes," said Brahma. "Would you like to apply for the job?"
"I don't know," said Sam. "Perhaps."
"And then again, perhaps not?" said the other.
"Perhaps not, also," he acknowledged. "In the old days there was none of this shillyshallying with a man's mind. If one of the First sought renewal, he paid the body price and was served."
"We no longer dwell in the old days, Sam. The new age is at hand."
"One would almost think that you sought the removal of all of the First who are not marshaled at your back."
"A pantheon has room for many, Sam. There is a niche for you, if you choose to claim it."
"If I do not?"
"Then inquire in the Hall of Karma after your body."
"And if I elect godhood?"
"Your brains will not be probed. The Masters will be advised to serve you quickly and well. A flying machine will be dispatched to convey you to Heaven."
"It bears a bit of thinking," said Sam. "I'm quite fond of this world, though it wallows in an age of darkness. On the other hand, such fondness will not serve me to enjoy the things I desire, if it is decreed that I die the real death or take on the form of an ape and wander about the jungles. But I am not overly fond of artificial perfection either, such as existed in Heaven when last I visited there. Bide with me a moment while I meditate."
"I consider such indecision presumptuous," said Brahma, "when one has just been made such an offer."
"I know, and perhaps I should also, were our positions reversed. But if I were God and you were me, I do believe I would extend a moment's merciful silence while a man makes a major decision regarding his life."
"Sam, you are an impossible haggler! Who else would keep me waiting while his immortality hangs in the balance? Surely you do not seek to bargain with me?"
"Well, I do come from a long line of slizzard traders—and I do very badly want something."
"And what may that be?"
"Answers to a few questions which have plagued me for a while now."
"These being . . . ?"
"As you are aware, I stopped attending the old Council meetings over a century ago, for they had become lengthy sessions calculated to postpone decision-making, and were primarily an excuse for a Festival of the First. Now, I have nothing against festivals. In fact, for a century and a half I went to them only to drink good Earth booze once more. But, I felt that we should be doing something about the passengers, as well as the offspring of our many bodies, rather than letting them wander a vicious world, reverting to savagery. I felt that we of the crew should be assisting them, granting them the benefits of the technology we had preserved, rather than building ourselves an impregnable paradise and treating the world as a combination game preserve and whorehouse. So, I have wondered long why this thing was not done. It would seem a fair and equitable way to run a world."
"I take it from this that you are an Accelerationist?"
"No," said Sam, "simply an inquirer. I am curious, that's all, as to the reasons."
"Then, to answer your questions," said Brahma, "it is because they are not ready for it. Had we acted immediately—yes, this thing could have been done. But we were indifferent at first. Then, when the question arose, we were divided. Too much time passed. They are not ready, and will not be for many centuries. If they were to be exposed to an advanced technology at this point, the wars which would ensue would result in the destruction of the beginnings they have already made. They have come far. They have begun a civilization after the manner of their fathers of old. But they are still children, and like children would they play with our gifts and be burnt by them. They are our children, by our long-dead First bodies, and second, and third and many after—and so, ours is the parents' responsibility toward them. We must not permit them to be accelerated into an industrial revolution and so destroy the first stable society on this planet. Our parental functions can best be performed by guiding them as we do, through the Temples. Gods and goddesses are basically parent figures, so what could be truer and more just than that we assume these roles and play them thoroughly?"
"Why then do you destroy their own infant technology? The printing press has been rediscovered on three occasions that I can remember, and suppressed each time."
"This was done for the same reason—they were not yet ready for it. And it was not truly discovered, but rather it was remembered. It was a thing out of legend which someone set about duplicating. If a thing is to come, it must come as a result of factors already present in the culture, and not be pulled from out of the past like a rabbit from a hat."
"It seems you are drawing a mighty fine line at that point, Brahma. I take it from this that your minions go to and fro in the world, destroying all signs of progress they come upon?"
"This is not true," said the god. "You talk as if we desire perpetually this burden of godhood, as if we seek to maintain a dark age that we may know forever the wearisome condition of our enforced divinity!"
"In a word," said Sam, "yes. What of the pray-o-mat which squats before this very Temple? Is it on par, culturally, with a chariot?"
"That is different," said Brahma. "As a divine manifestation, it is held in awe by the citizens and is not questioned, for religious reasons. It is hardly the same as if gunpowder were to be introduced."
"Supposing some local atheist hijacks one and picks it apart? And supposing he happens to be a Thomas Edison? What then?"
"They have tricky combination locks on them. If anyone other than a priest opens one, it will blow up and take him along with it."
"And I notice you were unable to suppress the rediscovery of the still, though you tried. So you slapped on an alcohol tax, payable to the Temples."
"Mankind has always sought release through drink," said Brahma. "It has generally figured in somewhere in his religious ceremonies. Less guilt involved that way. True, we tried suppressing it at first, but we quickly saw we could not. So, in return for our tax, they receive here a blessing upon their booze. Less guilt, less of a hangover, fewer recriminations—it is psychosomatic, you know — and the tax isn't that high."