The Coming by Joe Haldeman Read Free Book Online Page B

morality.'"
    "Well, find one of them who's ordained, if you can—a tame one—and make him a pro forma member of your committee."
    "Hold it," the governor broke in. "You all act like this was some kind of a game. You'll look pretty sorry if it turns out that God really is behind it."
    This time they all stared at him. He seemed dead serious. "Now, I'm not saying that business and science aren't important. But this could be the biggest thing in history. Second biggest thing."
    It actually was calculation, Rory decided. The idea had come to him while he was sitting there, and now he was going to hang on to it with all of his famous "bull 'gator" tenacity. He probably didn't have much support from organized religion, so he was going to milk this for votes.
    "Now I understand the church and state thing," he continued, "and anyhow you scientists won't do much about the God end of it. Wouldn't expect you to. But Dr. Pauling's right. To be fair about it, you have to put some religious people on your committee."
    "And you have a suggestion for one," Pauling said.
    "As a matter of fact, I do. And he lives right near Gainesville, out in Archer, practically suburbs."
    The chancellor forced an unconvincing smile. "That wouldn't be Reverend Charles Dubois."
    "The same! By George, Dr. Barrett, you don't miss much, do you?" Reverend Dubois would be hard to miss. He was prominent in almost every conservative movement in the county. He had delivered Alachua County's votes to the governor in spite of the pesky liberal presence of the university.
    "Um… I'm not certain he would be qualified…"
    The governor was staring at his prompter. "He has a doctorate. He went to your own university."
    Barrett looked a little ill. "He didn't earn his doctorate here?"
    "Well, no. That was in California."
    "Through the mail," Bacharach said. "That charlatan doesn't have a real degree at all."
    "You know him?" Rory asked.
    "I live in Archer, too. He tried to push through a zoning variance for his new church last year."
    "We can't spend our energy worrying about local politics," the governor said, "Dubois is an energetic, intelligent man—"
    "Who flunked out of UF his first—"
    "Who has the trust and support of many elements of the community that do not automatically trust you academics." He glared into an uncomfortable silence.
    Bacharach stood up. "Malachi, thanks for asking for my input here. I'm obviously not helping the process, though." He turned around abruptly and disappeared.
    Rory realized she was in the same room with him; if she stood up and stepped away, the illusion would vanish, the dean and the chancellor staring at ghosts. Maybe she should. This was getting pretty far from the astrophysics of nonthermal sources.
    Well, there was no way to keep the politicians and religionists out of it, anyhow. Might as well start dealing with them now.
    "Governor," she said, "with all due respect, I wonder whether we might want a representative of the religious community who's more widely known. This Dubois man may be notorious in some circles, but I've never heard of him, and I live just twenty miles away."
    Deedee smiled at her. "Aurora, I'd bet that everything you know about local politics could be inscribed on the head of a pin."
    "She has a good point," Pauling said. "We should find someone of national stature. Perhaps Johnny Kale could find the time."
    "Or the pope. Everybody trusts the pope." Deedee looked into her coffee cup and put it back down. Johnny Kale had been the pet preacher of the last three administrations. He had as much clout as a cabinet member.
    Even Rory had heard of him. "But he's kind of old-fashioned," she said, although she meant something less charitable.
    "Well, perhaps that's what we want," Pauling said, "for balance. Most of the country is pretty old-fashioned, after all."
    Rory wasn't very political, but she knew a turf battle when she saw one. The governor was thinking so hard you could hear the dry primitive mechanisms