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image formed before him, without his consciously willing it. Inverted. It was a young man, seated, with a golden disk
on his head, the disk inscribed with a five-pointed star, and another disk like it held before him, and two more under
his feet. Over his feet, in this position.
"Damn it!" Brother Paul swore, in most un-Vision-like ire. He was tired of inversion and its theoretic warnings of
trouble that he didn't believe in. He strode forward, moving his arm as if to sweep the vision away. Half certain that
he would encounter nothing, he fixed his gaze on the fair city in the distance, also upside-down, like a mirage.
His outflung hand struck the front disk. It flew wide, reminding him momentarily of Tennyson's Lady of Shalott,
whose spindle had flown wide and cracked the mirror from side to side. Was he, like that Lady, living in fantasy?
The disk bounced and rolled along the ground. The man fell over, his feet coming down to touch the ground. He
looked surprised. He opened his mouth as if to cry out and faded away.
Shaking, Brother Paul stood looking at the spot where the Four of Pentacles had been. The Animation had been
solid! Just as the symbols yesterday in the mess hall had been solid. There was now no question: belief in an image
caused it to become real, here. Faith was the key.
Brother Paul put the deck away. It was evident that he could Animate what he saw on the cards, and these constructs
seemed to pose no threat to him personally. But was there really any significance beyond this? If this were simply a
work of art reproducing pictures in three dimensions, converting pictures to sculptures then there was surely no
special god involved.
"Brother Paul," a small voice murmured.
If there were no god at least none directly controlling the Animation effect his task was simple. He could declare
the problem solved and go home. But surely the colonists would not have been cowed by the Animation effect, if it
were only an art form, any more than they were cowed by the volcanoes or the Tarot Bubbles. And what was the
specific cause of the effect? His will controlled a particular image, but something else had to make it possible here,
while it remained impossible elsewhere.
"Brother Paul," the small voice repeated, "do you perceive me?"
He knew he had to work this out very carefully. He believed in God, and this was a most powerful and pervasive
belief, the realization of which had transformed his life eight years ago. Yet he had never presumed to define that
God too specifically. It was essential that he keep his mind objective, and not create any deity here, as it were, in his
own image. That had been Reverend Siltz's caution, and a proper one. For this mission, as in life, his God was Truth:
the most specific, objective, explicable truth he was capable of mustering.
If God Himself should manifest via the medium of Animation, surely He would make Himself known in His own
fashion, indisputably, as someone had already suggested. Brother Paul merely had to hold himself in readiness for
that transcendent revelation, that supreme intuition.
"Lord," he murmured, "let me not make a fool of myself, in my quest for Thee." But he had to reprove himself: it was
a selfish prayer. If it were necessary to make a fool of himself to discover God, then it would be well worth it. In fact,
was this not the nature of the Fool of Tarot?
His hour was passing; if he were to progress beyond yesterday's point, he had to do it soon. He brought out the deck
again and riffled through it, seeking inspiration. The Minor Arcana were not sufficient; should he Animate a Court
Card? Perhaps a King or a Queen?
A figure showed. Female, coming toward him. But he hadn't attempted another Animation! Unless
That was it. He was going through the Suit of Swords, and there was the Eight: a woman bound and hoodwinked
among a forest of standing swords. It meant bad news, crisis, interference. He had unconsciously Animated it. He
would have to watch that; he was in the depths of the Animation region now, and with practice was developing such
ready facility that any card he glimpsed could become physical, even without his conscious intent.
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