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I blinked, dizzy, near to collapsing. Memnoch held me.
"Look again!" he whispered, holding me up.
But I covered my eyes; because I knew that if I saw the
interconnections again, I would collapse! I would perish inside my own sense
of separateness! Yet each and every being I saw was separate.
"They are all themselves!" I cried. My hands were clapped on my
eyes. I could hear the raging and soaring songs more intensely; the
long riffs and cascades of voices. And beneath all there came such a
sequence of flowing rhythms, lapping one over the other, that I
began to sing.
I sang with everyone! I stood still, free of Memnoch for a moment,
opened my eyes, and heard my voice come out of me and rise
as if into the universe itself.
I sang and I sang; but my song was full of longing and immense
curiosity and frustration as well as celebration. And it came home to
me, thudded into me, that nowhere around me was there anyone who
was unsafe or unsatisfied, was there anything approximating stasis or
boredom; yet the word "frenzy" was in no way applicable to the
constant movement and shifting of faces and forms that I saw.
My song was the only sad note in Heaven, and yet the sadness was
transfigured immediately into harmony, into a form of psalm or
canticle, into a hymn of praise and wonder and gratitude.
I cried out. I think I cried the single word "God." This was not a
prayer or an admission, or a plea, but simply a great exclamation.
We stood in a doorway. Beyond appeared vista upon vista, and I
was vaguely sensible suddenly that over the nearby balustrade there
lay below the world.
The world as I had never seen it in all its ages, with all its secrets
of the past revealed. I had only to rush to the railing and I could peer
down into the time of Eden or Ancient Mesopotamia, or a moment
when Roman legions had marched through the woods of my earthly
home. I would see the great eruption of Vesuvius spill its horrid
, deadly ash down upon the ancient living city of Pompeii.
Everything there to be known and finally comprehended, all
questions settled, the smell of another time, the taste of it
I ran towards the balustrade, which seemed to be farther and
farther away. Faster and faster I headed towards it. Yet still the distance
was impossible, and suddenly I became intensely aware that this
vision of Earth would be mingled with smoke and fire and suffering,
and that it might utterly demolish in me the overflowing sense of joy.
I had to see, however. I was not dead. I was not here to stay.
Memnoch reached out for me. But I ran faster than he could.
An immense light rose suddenly, a direct source infinitely hotter
and more illuminating than the splendid light that already fell
without prejudice on everything I could see. This great gathering
magnetic light grew larger and larger until the world down below, the
great dim landscape of smoke and horror and suffering, was turned
white by this light, and rendered like an abstraction of itself, on the
verge of combusting.
Memnoch pulled me back, throwing up his arms to cover my eyes.
I did the same. I realized he had bowed his head and was hiding his
own eyes behind me.
I heard him sigh, or was it a moan? I couldn't tell. For one second
the sound filled the universe; all the cries and laughter and singing;
and something mournful from the depths of Earth all this sound-
was caught in Memnoch's sigh.
Suddenly I felt his strong arms relaxed and releasing me.
I looked up, and in the midst of the flood of light I saw again the
balustrade, and against it stood a single form.
It was a tall figure who stood with his hands on the railing, looking
over it and down. This appeared to be a man. He turned around and
looked at me and reached out to receive me.
His hair and eyes were dark, brownish, his face perfectly symmetrical
and flawless, his gaze intense; and the grasp of his fingers very
tight.
I drew in my breath. I felt my body in all its solidity and fragility as
his fingers clung to me. I was on the verge of death. I might have
ceased to breathe at that moment, or ceased to move with the
commitment to life and might have died!
The being drew me towards himself, a light flooding from him
that mingled with the light behind him and all around him, so his face
grew brighter yet more distinct and more detailed. I saw the pores of
his darkening golden skin, I saw the cracks in his lips, the shadow of
the hair that had been shaved from his face.
And then he spoke loudly, pleadingly to me, in a heartbroken
voice, a voice strong and masculine and perhaps even young.
"You would never be my adversary, would you? You wouldn't,
would you? Not you, Lestat, no, not you!"
My God.
In utter agony, I was torn out of His grip, out of His midst, and
out of His milieu.
The whirlwind once again surrounded us. I sobbed and beat on
Memnoch's chest. Heaven was gone!
"Memnoch, let go of me! God, it was God!"
Memnoch tightened his grip, straining with all his force to carry
me downwards, to make me submit, to force me to begin the descent.
We plummeted, that awful falling, which struck such fear in me
that I couldn't protest or cling to Memnoch or do anything except
watch the swift currents of souls all around us ascending, watching,
descending, the darkness coming again, everything growing dark,
until suddenly we traveled through moist air, full of familiar and
natural scents, and then came to a soft and soundless pause.
It was a garden again. It was still and beautiful. But it was Earth. I
knew it. My earth; and it was no disappointment in its intricacy or
scents or substance. On the contrary, I fell on the grass and let my
fingers dig into the earth itself. I felt it soft and gritted under my
fingernails. I sobbed. I could taste the mud.
The sun was shining down on us, both of us. Memnoch sat looking
at me, his wings immense and then slowly fading, until we became
two manlike figures; one prone and crying like a child, and the
other a great Angel, musing and waiting, his hair a mane of gradually
settling light.
"You heard what He said to me!" I cried. I sat up. My voice
should have been deafening. But it seemed only loud enough to be
perfectly understood. "He said, 'You wouldn't ever be my adversary!'
You heard Him! He called me by name."
Memnoch was completely calm, and of course infinitely more
seductive and enchanting in this pale angelic shape than ever he could
have been as the Ordinary Man.
"Of course he called you by name," he said, his eyes widening
with emphasis. "He doesn't want you to help me. I told you. I'm
winning."
"But what were we doing there! How could we get into Heaven
and yet be his adversaries!"
"Come with me, Lestat, and be my lieutenant, and you can come
and go there whenever you like."
I stared at him in astonished silence.
"You mean this? Come and go there?"
"Yes. Anytime. As I told you. Don't you know the Scriptures? I'm
not claiming an authenticity for the fragments that remain, or even
the original poetry, but of course you can come and go. You won't be
of that place until you are redeemed and in it. But you can certainly
get in and out, once you're on my side."
I tried to realize what he was saying. I tried to picture again the
galleries, the libraries, the long, long rows of books, and realized
suddenly it had become insubstantial; the details were disappearing. I
was retaining a tenth of what I'd beheld; perhaps even less. What I
have described here in this book is what I could remember then and
now. And there had been so much more!
"How is that possible, that He would let us into Heaven!" I said. I
tried to concentrate on the Scriptures, something David had said
once a long time ago, about the Book of Job, something about Satan [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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I blinked, dizzy, near to collapsing. Memnoch held me.
"Look again!" he whispered, holding me up.
But I covered my eyes; because I knew that if I saw the
interconnections again, I would collapse! I would perish inside my own sense
of separateness! Yet each and every being I saw was separate.
"They are all themselves!" I cried. My hands were clapped on my
eyes. I could hear the raging and soaring songs more intensely; the
long riffs and cascades of voices. And beneath all there came such a
sequence of flowing rhythms, lapping one over the other, that I
began to sing.
I sang with everyone! I stood still, free of Memnoch for a moment,
opened my eyes, and heard my voice come out of me and rise
as if into the universe itself.
I sang and I sang; but my song was full of longing and immense
curiosity and frustration as well as celebration. And it came home to
me, thudded into me, that nowhere around me was there anyone who
was unsafe or unsatisfied, was there anything approximating stasis or
boredom; yet the word "frenzy" was in no way applicable to the
constant movement and shifting of faces and forms that I saw.
My song was the only sad note in Heaven, and yet the sadness was
transfigured immediately into harmony, into a form of psalm or
canticle, into a hymn of praise and wonder and gratitude.
I cried out. I think I cried the single word "God." This was not a
prayer or an admission, or a plea, but simply a great exclamation.
We stood in a doorway. Beyond appeared vista upon vista, and I
was vaguely sensible suddenly that over the nearby balustrade there
lay below the world.
The world as I had never seen it in all its ages, with all its secrets
of the past revealed. I had only to rush to the railing and I could peer
down into the time of Eden or Ancient Mesopotamia, or a moment
when Roman legions had marched through the woods of my earthly
home. I would see the great eruption of Vesuvius spill its horrid
, deadly ash down upon the ancient living city of Pompeii.
Everything there to be known and finally comprehended, all
questions settled, the smell of another time, the taste of it
I ran towards the balustrade, which seemed to be farther and
farther away. Faster and faster I headed towards it. Yet still the distance
was impossible, and suddenly I became intensely aware that this
vision of Earth would be mingled with smoke and fire and suffering,
and that it might utterly demolish in me the overflowing sense of joy.
I had to see, however. I was not dead. I was not here to stay.
Memnoch reached out for me. But I ran faster than he could.
An immense light rose suddenly, a direct source infinitely hotter
and more illuminating than the splendid light that already fell
without prejudice on everything I could see. This great gathering
magnetic light grew larger and larger until the world down below, the
great dim landscape of smoke and horror and suffering, was turned
white by this light, and rendered like an abstraction of itself, on the
verge of combusting.
Memnoch pulled me back, throwing up his arms to cover my eyes.
I did the same. I realized he had bowed his head and was hiding his
own eyes behind me.
I heard him sigh, or was it a moan? I couldn't tell. For one second
the sound filled the universe; all the cries and laughter and singing;
and something mournful from the depths of Earth all this sound-
was caught in Memnoch's sigh.
Suddenly I felt his strong arms relaxed and releasing me.
I looked up, and in the midst of the flood of light I saw again the
balustrade, and against it stood a single form.
It was a tall figure who stood with his hands on the railing, looking
over it and down. This appeared to be a man. He turned around and
looked at me and reached out to receive me.
His hair and eyes were dark, brownish, his face perfectly symmetrical
and flawless, his gaze intense; and the grasp of his fingers very
tight.
I drew in my breath. I felt my body in all its solidity and fragility as
his fingers clung to me. I was on the verge of death. I might have
ceased to breathe at that moment, or ceased to move with the
commitment to life and might have died!
The being drew me towards himself, a light flooding from him
that mingled with the light behind him and all around him, so his face
grew brighter yet more distinct and more detailed. I saw the pores of
his darkening golden skin, I saw the cracks in his lips, the shadow of
the hair that had been shaved from his face.
And then he spoke loudly, pleadingly to me, in a heartbroken
voice, a voice strong and masculine and perhaps even young.
"You would never be my adversary, would you? You wouldn't,
would you? Not you, Lestat, no, not you!"
My God.
In utter agony, I was torn out of His grip, out of His midst, and
out of His milieu.
The whirlwind once again surrounded us. I sobbed and beat on
Memnoch's chest. Heaven was gone!
"Memnoch, let go of me! God, it was God!"
Memnoch tightened his grip, straining with all his force to carry
me downwards, to make me submit, to force me to begin the descent.
We plummeted, that awful falling, which struck such fear in me
that I couldn't protest or cling to Memnoch or do anything except
watch the swift currents of souls all around us ascending, watching,
descending, the darkness coming again, everything growing dark,
until suddenly we traveled through moist air, full of familiar and
natural scents, and then came to a soft and soundless pause.
It was a garden again. It was still and beautiful. But it was Earth. I
knew it. My earth; and it was no disappointment in its intricacy or
scents or substance. On the contrary, I fell on the grass and let my
fingers dig into the earth itself. I felt it soft and gritted under my
fingernails. I sobbed. I could taste the mud.
The sun was shining down on us, both of us. Memnoch sat looking
at me, his wings immense and then slowly fading, until we became
two manlike figures; one prone and crying like a child, and the
other a great Angel, musing and waiting, his hair a mane of gradually
settling light.
"You heard what He said to me!" I cried. I sat up. My voice
should have been deafening. But it seemed only loud enough to be
perfectly understood. "He said, 'You wouldn't ever be my adversary!'
You heard Him! He called me by name."
Memnoch was completely calm, and of course infinitely more
seductive and enchanting in this pale angelic shape than ever he could
have been as the Ordinary Man.
"Of course he called you by name," he said, his eyes widening
with emphasis. "He doesn't want you to help me. I told you. I'm
winning."
"But what were we doing there! How could we get into Heaven
and yet be his adversaries!"
"Come with me, Lestat, and be my lieutenant, and you can come
and go there whenever you like."
I stared at him in astonished silence.
"You mean this? Come and go there?"
"Yes. Anytime. As I told you. Don't you know the Scriptures? I'm
not claiming an authenticity for the fragments that remain, or even
the original poetry, but of course you can come and go. You won't be
of that place until you are redeemed and in it. But you can certainly
get in and out, once you're on my side."
I tried to realize what he was saying. I tried to picture again the
galleries, the libraries, the long, long rows of books, and realized
suddenly it had become insubstantial; the details were disappearing. I
was retaining a tenth of what I'd beheld; perhaps even less. What I
have described here in this book is what I could remember then and
now. And there had been so much more!
"How is that possible, that He would let us into Heaven!" I said. I
tried to concentrate on the Scriptures, something David had said
once a long time ago, about the Book of Job, something about Satan [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]