But it was rare, so very rare!

I jammed my elbow into his ribs and threw my head back in hisface. The grip eased, but not enough. I hated to do it, but Ireached up and broke his little finger.

The arm went loose and I twisted free.

He lay there panting, face contorted. My heart went out to thefallen giant, defending his people, his religion, following hisorders. I cursed myself as I had never cursed before, for walkingover him, instead of around.

I staggered across the room to my little heap of possessions. Isat on the projector case and lit a cigarette.

I couldn't go into the Temple until I got my breath back, until Ithought of something to say.

How do you talk a race out of killing itself?

Suddenly--

--Could it happen! Would it work that way? If I read them theBook of Ecclesiastes--if I read them a greater piece of literature thanany Locar ever wrote--and as somber--and as pessimistic--and showed themthat our race had gone on despite one man's condemning all of life inthe highest poetry--showed them that the vanity he had mocked had borneus to the Heavens--would they believe it--would they change their minds?

I ground out my cigarette on the beautiful floor, and found mynotebook. A strange fury rose within me as I stood.

And I walked into the Temple to preach the Black Gospel accordingto Gallinger, from the Book of Life.

There was silence all about me.

M'Cwyie had been reading Locar, the rose set at her right hand,target of all eyes.

Until I entered.

Hundreds of people were seated on the floor, barefoot. The fewmen were as small as the women, I noted.

I had my boots on.

Go all the way, I figured. You either lose or youwin--everything!

A dozen crones sat in a semicircle behind M'Cwyie. The Mothers.

The barren earth, the dry wombs, the fire-touched.

I moved to the table.

"Dying yourselves, you would condemn your people," I addressedthem, "that they may not know the life you have known--the joys, thesorrows, the fullness. --But it is not true that you all must die." Iaddressed the multitude now. "Those who say this lie. Braxa knows,for she will bear a child--"

They sat there, like rows of Buddhas. M'Cwyie drew back into thesemicircle.

"--my child!" I continued, wondering what my father would havethought of this sermon.

"...And all the women young enough may bear children. It is onlyyour men who are sterile. --And if you permit the doctors of the nextexpedition to examine you, perhaps even the men may be helped. But ifthey cannot, you can mate with the men of Earth.

"And ours is not an insignificant people, an insignificant place,"I went on. "Thousands of years ago, the Locar of our world wrote abook saying that it was. He spoke as Locar did, but we did not liedown, despite plagues, wars, and famines. We did not die. One by onewe beat down the diseases, we fed the hungry, we fought the wars, and,recently, have gone a long time without them. We may finally haveconquered them. I do not know.

"But we have crossed millions of miles of nothingness. We havevisited another world. And our Locar had said `Why bother? What isthe worth of it? It is all vanity, anyhow.'

"And the secret is," I lowered my voice, as at a poetry reading,"he was right! It is vanity, it is pride! It is the hubris ofrationalism to always attack the prophet, the mystic, the god. It isour blasphemy which has made us great, and will sustain us, and whichthe gods secretly admire in us. --All the truly sacred names of Godare blasphemous things to speak!"

I was working up a sweat. I paused dizzily.

"Here is the Book of Ecclesiastes," I announced, and began:

"`Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; allif vanity. What profit hath a man...'"

I spotted Braxa in the back, mute, rapt.

I wondered what she was thinking.

And I wound the hours of the night about me, like black thread ona spool.

Oh, it was late! I had spoken till day came, and still I spoke. Ifinished Ecclesiastes and continued Gallinger.

And when I finished there was still only a silence.

The Buddhas, all in a row, had not stirred through the night. Andafter a long while M'Cwyie raised her right hand. One by one theMothers did the same.

And I knew what that meant.

It meant, no, do not, cease, and stop.

It meant that I had failed.

I walked slowly from the room and slumped beside my baggage.

Ontro was gone. Good that I had not killed him....

After a thousand years M'Cwyie entered.

She said, "Your job is finished."

I did not move.

"The prophecy is fulfilled," she said. "My people are rejoicing.You have won, holy man. Now leave us quickly."

My mind was a deflated balloon. I pumped a little air back intoit.

"I'm not a holy man," I said, "just a second-rate poet with a badcase of hubris."

I lit my last cigarette.

Finally, "All right, what prophecy?"

"The Promise of Locar," she replied, as though the explaining wereunnecessary, "that a holy man would come from the Heavens to save usin our last hours, if all the dances of Locar were completed. Hewould defeat the Fist of Malann and bring us life."

"How?"

"As with Braxa, and as the example in the Temple."

"Example?"

"You read us his words, as great as Locar's. You read to us howthere is `nothing new under the sun.' And you mocked his words as youread them--showing us a new thing.

"There has never been a flower on Mars," she said, "but we willlearn to grow them.

"You are the Sacred Scoffer," she finished."He-Who-Must-Mock-in-the-Temple--you go shod on holy ground."

"But you voted `no,'" I said.

"I voted not to carry out our original plan, and to let Braxa'schild live instead."

"Oh." The cigarette fell from my fingers. How close it had been!How little I had known!

"And Braxa?"

"She was chosen half a Process ago to do the dances--to wait foryou."

"But she said that Ontro would stop me."

M'Cwyie stood there for a long time.

"She had never believed the prophecy herself. Things are not wellwith her now. She ran away, fearing it was true. When you completedit, and we voted, she knew."

"Then she does not love me? Never did?"

"I am sorry, Gallinger. It was the one part of her duty she nevermanaged."

"Duty," I said flatly....Dutydutyduty! Tra-la!

"She has said good-bye, she does wish to see you again.

"...and we will never forget your teachings," she added.

"Don't," I said automatically, suddenly knowing the great paradoxwhich lies at the heart of all miracles. I did not believe a word ofmy own gospel, never had.

I stood, like a drunken man, and muttered "M'narra."

I went outside, into my last day on Mars.

I have conquered thee, Malann--and the victory is thine! Resteasy on thy starry bed. God damned!

I left the jeepster there and walked back to the Aspic, leavingthe burden of life so many footsteps behind me. I went to my cabin,locked the door, and took forty-four sleeping pills.

But when I awakened I was in the dispensary, and alive.

I felt the throb of engines as I slowly stood up and somehow madeit to the port.

Blurred Mars hung like a swollen belly above me, until itdissolved, brimmed over, and streamed down my face.