down below there?”
“I get the papers. Even from the papers one can to a certain extent deduce what is happening. Of course these journalists distort everything; still, anyone who can read . . . I say, Bondy, are things really so awful?”
G. H. Bondy shook his head.
“A lot worse than you think. Simply desperate. Listen,” he whispered brokenly. “He’s everywhere by now. I think that . . . that He’s got a definite plan.”
“A plan?” cried Marek, leaping to his feet.
“Don’t shout so. He has some kind of plan, my friend. And He’s going about it deuced cleverly. Tell me, Marek, what is the greatest power in the world?”
“England,” said Marek without hesitation.
“Not at all. Industry is the greatest power in the world. And the so-called ‘proletariat’ are likewise the greatest power in the world. Do you see the scheme now?”
“No, I don’t see it at all.”
“He has got control of them both. He has both industry and the masses in His power. So everything is in His grasp. Everything goes to show that He is thinking of world-supremacy. That’s how things are, Marek.”
Marek sat down. “Wait a bit, Bondy,” he said. “I’ve been thinking a good deal about it up here in the mountains. I’ve been following up everything and comparing the signs. I tell you, Bondy, I don’t even give a thought to anything else. I certainly don’t know what He is aiming at, but I do know this, Bondy, that He’s following no particular plan. He doesn’t know Himself what He wants and how to get it. Possibly He wants to do something big, but doesn’t know how to set about it. I’ll tell you something, Bondy. So far He’s only a force of Nature. Politically, He’s a fearful ignoramus. In the matter of economics He’s a simple savage. After all, He ought to have submitted to the Church; she has had experience. . . . You know, He sometimes strikes me as being so childish. . . .”
“Don’t you believe it, Rudy,” G. H. Bondy returned heavily. “He knows what He wants. That’s why He plunged into large-scale industry. He is far more up to date than we ever thought.”
“That is only His play,” urged Marek. “He only wants something to occupy Himself with. Don’t you see, there’s a sort of godlike boyishness about it. Wait, I know what you want to say. As a worker He is tremendous. It is simply amazing what He can bring off. But, Bondy, it is so senseless that there can’t be any plan in it.”
“The most senseless things in history were systematically prosecuted plans,” declared G. H. Bondy.
“My dear Bondy,” said Marek quickly. “Look at all the papers I have here. I follow up every step He takes. I tell you that there isn’t a scrap of consistency about them. They’re all merely the improvisations of omnipotence. He performs tremendous tricks, but at random, disconnectedly, confusedly. His activity isn’t organized a scrap. He came into the world altogether too unprepared. That’s where His weakness lies. He impresses me, but I see His weak points. He is not a good organizer, and perhaps never has been. He has flashes of genius, but He is unsystematic. I’m surprised that you haven’t got the better of Him, Bondy, a wideawake fellow like you.”
“You can’t do anything with Him,” Bondy asserted. “He attacks you in your innermost soul, and you’re done for. When He can’t convince you by reason, He sends miraculous enlightenment upon you. You know what He did with Saul.”
“You are running away from Him,” said Marek, “but I am running after Him, and I’m close at His heels. I know a bit about Him already, enough to get out a warrant for Him! Description: infinite, invisible, and formless. Place of residence: everywhere in the vicinity of atomic motors. Occupation: mystical Communism. Crimes for which He is wanted: alienation of private property, illegal practice of medicine, offences against the Public Assemblies Act, interference with officials in the execution of their duty, and so forth. Distinguishing marks: omnipotence. In short, have Him arrested.”
“You’re making fun of it,” sighed G. H. Bondy. “Don’t do it. He has beaten us.”
“Not yet!” cried Marek. “Look here, Bondy. He doesn’t know how to govern yet. He has got into a fearful muddle with His new undertakings. For instance, He has gone in for over-production instead of first building up a miraculous railway system. Now He’s in the mire Himself—what He produces has no value. That miraculous profusion of everything was a fearful fiasco. In the second place, He turned the brains of the authorities with His mysticism and upset the whole machinery of Government, which otherwise He could now be using to maintain order. You can make revolutions anywhere else you like, but not in the Government offices; even if the world’s to be brought to an end, the thing to do is to destroy the universe first and take the Government offices afterwards. That’s how it is, Bondy. And in the third place, like the crudest of doctrinaire Communists, He has done away with the currency and thereby with one stroke paralysed the circulation of commodities. He did not know that the laws of the market are stronger than the laws of God. He did not know that production without trade is utterly senseless. He knew nothing whatever. He behaved like . . . like a . . . well, to put it shortly, as if He would destroy with one hand what He made with the other. Here we have miraculous profusion, and along with it disastrous shortage. He is all-powerful, yet He’s achieved only chaos. I believe that He once did really create the laws of Nature, the primordial lizards, the mountains, and anything else you like. But business, Bondy, our modern industry and commerce, that I swear He did not create, for He simply doesn’t know a thing about it. No, Bondy, industry and commerce are not of God.”
“Hold on,” said G. H. Bondy. “I know that the consequences of His acts are calamitous . . . immeasurable. . . . But what can we do about it?”
“For the time being, nothing. My dear Bondy, I just study and compare. It is a second Babel. Here, for instance, you have the Roman Catholic publications expressing the suspicion that ‘the confusions of these times of religious excitement are being deliberately organized with Satanic subtlety by the Freemasons.’ The Nationalist Press blames the Jews, the Socialists of the Right blame those of the Left, the Agrarian party attacks the Liberals; it’s killing. And mind you, we’re not really in the whirlpool yet. In my opinion, the whole thing is only just beginning to get into a tangle. Come here, Bondy, I want to tell you something.”
“Well?”
“Do you think that He . . . you know what I mean . . . that He’s the only one there is?”
“I don’t know,” replied Bondy. “And is it of any special importance?”
“Immense importance,” Marek answered. “Come closer, Bondy, and prick up your ears.”
XVII
THE HAMMER AND STAR
“Brother Senior Warden, what do you see in the East?” asked the Worshipful Master. He was dressed all in black, wore the white leather apron, and held the silver gavel in his hand.
“I see the Masters assembled in the Temple and ready for labour,” said the Senior Warden.
The Worshipful Master gave a knock with his gavel.
“Brother Junior Warden, what do you see in the West?”
“I see the
