him.

It was strange, he thought again, that he should not have seen it from
the first. For it was perfectly clear and all of a pattern.

The marriage laws. _Thou shalt not live in adultery._

The dietary laws. _Thou shalt not eat that which is unclean._

And the logical concomitant, the law of worship. _Thou shalt have no
gods before Me._

* * * * *

The apostles ... Mark, Luke and John. Later, Matthew, Philip, Peter,
Simon, Andrew, James, Bartholomew and Thomas.

He had a feeling that something was wrong with the list besides the
omission of Judas--unluckily, he had no Bible--but it was really an
academic question. They were _his_ apostles, not that Other's.

The pattern repeated itself, he thought, but with variations.

He understood now why he had shelved the project of Christianizing the
natives, although one of his first acts had been to abolish their pagan
sects. He had told himself at first that it was best to wait until he
had put down from memory the salient parts of the Holy Bible--Genesis,
say, the better-known Psalms, and a condensed version of the Gospels;
leaving out all the begats, and the Jewish tribal history, and awkward
things like the Songs of Solomon. (_Thy mandibles are like pomegranates_
... no, it wouldn't do).

And, of course, he had never found time to wrack his brains for the
passages that eluded him. But all that had been merely a subterfuge to
soothe his conscience, while he slowly felt his way into his new role.

Now, it was almost absurdly simple. He was writing his own holy book--or
rather, Luke, Thomas, and a corps of assistants were putting it together
from his previous utterances, to be edited by him later.

The uneasy rustling of chitinous arms against white robes recalled him
from his meditation. The swarm of priests, altar boys, and the rest of
his retinue was still gathered around him, waiting until he should deign
to notice them again. Really, God thought with annoyance, this
woolgathering--at such a moment!

* * * * *

The worshippers were massed in the Temple. A low, excited twittering
rose from them as He appeared and walked into the beam of the spotlight.

The dark lenses of television cameras were focused on Him from every
part of the balcony at the rear of the hall. The microphones were ready.
Weaver walked forward as the congregation knelt, and waited an
impressive moment before He spread His ha