"Uh, excuse me?" Dov paused beneath a tapestry depicting the Reverend Everything, dressed as an Aztec emperor, slaying a hydra whose wings were clearly labeled disunion and negativity. "The United what?"

"The United Mithraic Order," the Reverend Everything repeated affably enough. "That was what we called our congregation in those days. Ah, simple, humble beginnings! Not quite so simple once your dear mother provided us with the methods for channeling our collective zeal into tangible power, not to mention her invaluable advice in matters concerning what we need and need not pay the government."

He walked on, Dov by his side, until they reached another pair of doors, these adorned with quilted panels made from pieces of gold lame, burgundy-hued crushed velvet, bronze-shot turquoise brocade, sea-green silk, kingfisher-blue moire, and silver point-lace.

"Holy Seventh Avenue!" Ammi exclaimed. "I knew that Liberace was dead, but I never knew they skinned him for his hide!"

"And what might this be, Brother Dov?" Reverend Everything asked suavely, bending low to peer at the little amulet. "My, my. I had one just like this on the fax machine for the Blessed Keepers of the Holy Actualization—that was the name of our divine mission about two years ago. It was a gift from Edwina. Why do you carry it around with you?"

"Oh, he—it's a later model with more technological capabilities than simple fax interfacing," Dov said a little too quickly, a little too glibly.

"I see." Reverend Everything smiled and patted Dov on the shoulder. "There, there, son. We all get lonely at the top." He opened the doors with a dramatic flourish just as he added: "But we all find our ways to make do."

The full glory of the inmost sanctuary of the Serene Temple of Unfailing Lifescores burst upon them with the impact of a Fourth of July fireworks extravaganza. Row after row of plexiglass pews filled the chamber, sparkling beneath the battery of complexion- flattering pink lights on high. A raised platform stood at the end of the white-carpeted aisle that looked about as long as a football field. Twin choirs of fresh-faced young men and women with flowered sarongs wrapped around their lissome bodies stood ranging all up and down the length of a pair of airy spiral staircases, the banisters draped with luxuriant vines. They burst into song as soon as their leader noted the Reverend's entrance. Exotic blossoms were everywhere, and Dov could have sworn he heard the soft calls of tropical birds and monkeys echoing through the sanctuary. Somewhere a steel drum band was playing a Shaker hymn.

Dov was surprised, but not by the splashy display itself. The last he'd heard, the Reverend Everything's church had been decorated to resemble the grand saloon of the Titanic, with authentic early-twentieth-century costumes available for rental by the congregation upon receipt of an "offering." What sort of costume you were issued certainly did not depend on the amount of your donation, but it was an amazing coincidence how readily the Reverend's friendly Mistresses of the Sanctified Wardrobe could discover that, if you were a parsimonious giver, the only costumes left in your size were suitable for steerage passengers. On the other hand, more open-handed donors inevitably took their seats dressed in period evening gowns and tuxedos, fully accessorized.

It really was astonishing how it always worked out that way.

"This isn't what I was expecting," Dov murmured to his host as they made their way up the aisle.

"Oh, I had a spiritual evolution about three weeks ago," Reverend Everything confided. "Rather than remind the faithful of how, while our lives may appear to be unsinkable luxury vessels designed to take us to our ultimate destination, there's always the unexpected spiritual iceberg, I realized that our lives are really more like the vast and powerful Aztec Empire. Are they not rich? Does not every person command some sort of power over his inferiors? And nevertheless, are we not vulnerable to losing everything at a moment's notice if we continue to live heedlessly?"

"So where does stuff like 'fengsama' and 'Elysians' fit into all this? Brytanni said—"

The Reverend Everything chuckled. "Oh, that Brytanni! Fengsama is a way-station to enlightenment on a path that we haven't used since last November. Elysians are a method of keeping track of your progress that is, as Brytanni herself might say, so last season. I do wish she'd try to keep up with the rest of the congregation, but she's rather a slow study. Still, a devoted follower is always a blessing."

They mounted the platform stairs together and Reverend Everything motioned for Dov to have a seat on a high-backed chair that had been painted to resemble a crouching jade idol. Dov drummed his fingers on the heads of the Feathered Serpent armrests and glanced at the choirs. There was nothing even stage-Aztec about their outfits. The choir director was still wearing a tuxedo, left over from the church's previous incarnation. The transformation was not perfect, yet as Dov looked out over the sea of eager faces cramming the crystal pews, he only saw joy, faith, and readiness to gulp down whatever words of wisdom their leader might toss their way.

They did not have long to wait. Reverend Everything took center stage and raised his arms, letting his hummingbird cape fall back. "My friends, success and serenity be with you!" he declared.

"Precious and productive be your passage!" the congregation responded.

"Hear the words that will guide you!"

"We hear and heed and hearken!"

"Now ... who wants to score?"

Dov sat bolt upright. As soon as the Reverend Everything uttered those words, the aisle filled with the bodies of the faithful, and mighty admirable bodies they were. L.A. was famous for annually exceeding its production quota of Pretty People, but the Reverend Everything's temple seemed to have cornered the market on that commodity.

It was bumper-to-bumper time on the Silicone Highway, and those who had not come forward took up a rhythmic chant of "Score! Score! Score! Score!" seldom encountered outside of football arenas. This had all the earmarks of an impending orgy, and for the life of him, Dov could not remember whether or not he was wearing decent underwear. (It was clean, yes, but that was not the point. Some men went out and got embarrassing tattoos when they got drunk. Dov bought comic novelty underwear, the sort with witty mottos like Warning: Heavy Equipment, or pictures of happy gorillas with their paws disappearing inside the fly.)

His qualms were soon put to rest by his host. The Reverend Everything made a slashing movement with one finger across his throat and the mob fell into immediate, total silence. A thread of piped-in organ music sent up a soft, soothing rendition of the theme from Fame in funeral dirge tempo to underscore the words he spoke.

"My dear, dear fellow star-wanderers, your response is wonderfully gratifying. To think that my teachings have yielded such luscious fruit! We are a product of universal love, and we are placed on this earth to seek, to learn, and perhaps to know the reason for that divine product placement. We are all One with the universe, but one is the loneliest number. One can only win us the game of life if life itself fails to score, and we all know, life scores bigtime. It is therefore our mission to discover what our own lifescore must be and then to get out there and make that point spread! To see so many of you here, come to report on your latest successes, makes me realize that in a way, I, too, have added to my lifescore through you. And you have thus added to your own lifescore through me."

He went on in the same vein for about the length of one Super Bowl commercial break before having the lined-up congregants come up onto the stage with him one by one to announce their lifescores for the week. They spoke of audition appointments granted, screenplays written, producers "not completely disinterested" in their next project, even contracts signed. He had words of praise and encouragement for each of them, words which inevitably ended with: "And do you truly value what you have achieved through our spiritual partnership?"