"This time, we're not going to be fanatical. We're going to select the best of the teachings of all the religions of the past, and, hopefully, add a few more of our own. And we're going to build a new religion that will appeal to modern man. Most of the great religions of the world were conceived of two thousand or more years ago; Buddhism and Hinduism, even longer. Judaism, Christianity and Mohammedism were all conceived by nomads in the Middle East. Such items as the Jews not eating shellfish made a lot of Page 57
sense in the times of Moses, since they had no refrigeration, and nothing spoils so quickly in a hot climate than shellfish. But it doesn't make sense now. Gentlemen, we want a modern religion that a present day person can identify with."
He looked about at them. "Very well, that is the basic idea."
The testy one said, "But what is this so-called new religion to be about? And why are we to do it? What is accomplished? And why the secrecy, this whole matter of our being secluded for a year or more?"
Mike said, "The why of it is top secret and that is the reason you must be put off on this remote island.
Later, perhaps, -I do not know, but you might be completely informed and the plaudits of the nation will be due you. Time will work this out. Although it will be new, we will call it the Old Time Religion Church.
For some reason, people feel confidence in the belief that their moral codes, religions and such, go way back. The strongest tenets will be moderation, meekness, the simple life, the pleasures of home and the family. We might even work in a slight amount of xenophobia and nationalism. The love of one's own country to the point where one does not wish to travel to other lands."
He wound it up. "I'll work with all this with you in detail "
The testy one said, without his usual testiness, "You know, I am not completely opposed to the project.
A great deal of what you have said makes considerable sense. If people want religion, at least they should have a well thought out one. And who could think it out better than we five here?"
Mike said, unctuously, "Gentlemen, I have complete confidence in your abilities." He added dryly, "If anyone in the world could come up with a viable new religion, certainly you five agnostics and atheists, who have spent your lives studying religion, can."
Chapter XV
Mike Edwards and Frank Jones were over drinks again, this time seated in the small office of Mike's suite. They had both been working under pressure for several weeks now, and were beginning to show the strain. Mike was seldom out of the hotel.
On the desk was a long list of the potential Russian speaking missionary students who had been selected by the computers from the National Data Banks dossiers that were kept on every citizen of the nation.
Supposedly the dossiers were highly confidential, giving every bit of intimate information available. But the Old Time Religion Church project held top priority. It could snoop into anybody's privacy on a Presidential level.
Mike said, unhappily, "IH have to interview each one of them personally, but meanwhile we have various odds and ends. I want you to sign up one of the advertising agencies to turn out some hymns. We'll want the most competent tunesmiths in Tin Pan Alley to work on them."
He thought about that aspect for a few moments. "Come to think of it, the Russkies are pretty music conscious. Could we dig up some really classical new hymns, something like Haydn used to knock out?
Any American composers currently on the scene who could whomp up something really spiritual for the Old Time Religion Church?"
"No. The tops that we've reached in the past century are Irving Berlin and Cole Porter. Haydn, for Christ sakes."
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Mike looked at him. "Where in the hell did you ever hear of Franz Josef Haydn?"
"Don't be a goddamned culture snob. I used to work as a pianist in a whorehouse. Whores are very sentimental."
Mike looked at him.
Frank said, "You know, it might be a good idea if we used old Russian folk song tunes as the background music. They'll be able to identify better."
"Good idea," Mike said. "Work on it."
He said, looking down at the notes on the desk, "As soon as my five double domes come up with our new theology well get books, pamphlets, brochures and throwaway leaflets printed. We'll need the best writers in the country to do them up, not a bunch of hacks. Damn it, it's too bad both Hemingway and Faulkner are dead. Then, of course, we'll have to have them translated into Russian."
"Yeah," Frank said. "It's too bad Tolstoy is dead, too. He could have written the stuff for you directly in Russian."
"Mind the humor," Mike told him. "It doesn't become you." He looked at his notes again. "Oh, yes. Just as soon as we have our gospel all smoothed out, I'm going to need TV rime, prime time. An hour each Sunday."
Frank looked at him. "What in the hell for?"
Mike spoke reasonably. "This thing can't just spring into prominence overnight. We've got to build up to it. Bishop Michael J. Edwards will have to start spreading the message initially right here in the States.
Well leak it to the press that the Old Time Religion Church was first a very small denomination in the Middle West-we won't mention where in the Middle West-but that it has taken on and avalanched.
Which, reminds me. Line us up a half dozen of the top publicity agents. We're going to have to splash Bishop Edwards' kisser in every publication in the country, get him into all the columns and so forth."
Frank Jones finished his beer. "For Christ sakes, Mike. You might really make some converts, sincere converts."
"I'd better," Mike said grimly.
His partner was indignant. "But it's all a fake! You can't sucker the American people into a phony religion. It's not… well, it's not ethical."
Mike looked at him strangely. "You still don't get it, do you? This isn't a fake, Frank. It's a damn good religion. It's going to have to be or the Russkies won't buy it. There's nothing wrong with teaching moderation, some of the best brains of all time have done so. And as far as the American people are concerned, it won't hurt them to practice a little of it. We're not as bad as the Russkies but we've come a long way from the virtues of a century ago."
Frank Jones shook his head, came to his feet and went into the other room for another bottle of Tuborg.
When he came back, Mike said, "Oh, yes. Another tiling. I need some professors for the seminary.
Some really top educators who can teach the Old Time Religion to my missionary students, as soon as Page 59
we find out what the Old Time Religion is."
"How in the hell can we do that? You haven't converted anyone yet, professors or otherwise," Frank said in disgust.
They don't have to believe in it. All they've got to do is teach it. We'll also have to have classes in speaking, advanced classes in Russian, classes in contemporary Soviet Complex life, so they'll know what they're getting into, all the rest of it. You'd better take in a few seminaries and find out what makes them tick."
"Oh, great," Frank said, pulling away at his beer.
Mike took in his notes again and muttered, "I guess we'd better wear black suits and reversed collars, Reverend. They give a certain authenticity to a religious worker.
"Reverend?" Frank said blankly.
"That's right. From now on, you're the Reverend Frank Jones, right hand man-of Bishop Edwards."
"Jesus H. Christ," Frank protested. "The things I've done for my country."
The doorbell buzze4 and Mike Edwards checked the identity screen.
"It's probably one of the students selected by the computers," Mike sighed. "The first to turn up so far.
Show him in, Reverend, and mind your goddamned foul language while he's here."