The Book of Strange New Things(66)

Lately, as often as possible without overselling the idea, Peter used the phrase ‘our haven’ instead of ‘church’. ‘We build our haven,’ he’d say (no sibilants at all!), or he would link the two words together in the same sentence. And, mindful to nip any misunderstandings in the bud, he took care to explain that ‘haven’ was different from ‘Heaven’. Both places offered a safe, welcoming home for those who’d accepted Jesus into their heart, but one was a physical locale and the other was a state of eternal spiritual union with God.

A few of the Oasans had started using the word; not many. Most preferred to say ‘?ur?’ even though it convulsed their bodies. And the ones who did say ‘haven’ pronounced it no differently from ‘Heaven’, despite reassuring him that they understood the difference.

‘Heaven there,’ Jesus Lover Fifteen said, pointing up into the sky. Then, pointing at the half-built church: ‘Heaven here.’

Peter had smiled. In his own belief, Heaven was not located up in the sky; it had no astronomical coordinates; it co-existed with all things everywhere. But perhaps it was too soon to engage the Oasans in such metaphysics. They could distinguish between the place they were building and the God they wanted to be part of: that was good.

‘Good,’ he said.

‘Prai??e Je??u??,’ Jesus Lover Fifteen replied, sounding, as he spoke, like a foot pulled out of sucking mud. .

‘Praise Jesus,’ agreed Peter, a little sadly. It was a pity, in a way, that Jesus had been christened ‘Jesus’. It was a fine name, a lovely name, but ‘Daniel’ or ‘David’ or even ‘Nehemiah’ would have been easier here. As for ‘C-2’, or ‘Oasis’, or the little girl from Oskaloosa who’d named it, they were best not even mentioned.

‘What do you call this place?’ he’d asked several people several times.

‘Here,’ they said.

‘This whole world,’ he specified. ‘Not just your homes, but all the land around your homes, as far as you can see, and the places even further that you can’t see, beyond the horizon where the sun goes down.’

‘Life,’ they said.

‘God,’ they said.

‘What about in your own language?’ he’d insisted.

‘You could no??? ??peak the word,’ Jesus Lover One said.

‘I could try.’

‘You could no??? ??peak the word.’ It was impossible to tell if this repetition signalled testiness, obstinacy, an immovable force, or if Lover One was calmly making the same assessment twice in a row.

‘Could Kurtzberg speak the word?’

‘No.’

‘Did Kurtzberg . . . When he was with you, did Kurtzberg learn any words of your language?’

‘No.’

‘Did you speak any words of our language, when you first met Kurtzberg?’

‘Few.’

‘That must have made things very difficult.’

‘God help u??.’

Peter couldn’t tell whether this was a rueful, good-humoured exclamation – a sort of upwards roll of the eyes, if there had been eyes to roll – or whether the Oasan was literally stating that God had helped.

‘You speak my language so well,’ he complimented them. ‘Who taught you? Kurtzberg? Tartaglione?’

‘Frank.’

‘Frank?’

‘Frank.’ Presumably this was Tartaglione’s Christian name. Speaking of which . . .

‘Was Frank a Christian? A Jesus Lover?’

‘No. Frank a . . . language lover.’

‘Did Kurtzberg teach you too?’

‘Language, no. He ???ea? only the word of God. He read from the Book of ?????range New Thing??. In the beginning, we under-?????and nothing. Then, with help of Frank, and with help of God, word upon word we under?????and.’

‘And Tart . . . Frank. Where is he now?’

‘No??? with u??,’ said a voice from inside the hood of an olive-green robe.

‘He go away,’ said the voice from inside the hood of the canary-yellow robe. ‘Leave u?? in lack of him.’

Peter tried to imagine what questions Bea might ask if she were here – what bigger picture she would see. She had a knack for noticing not just what was present, but what was absent. Peter cast his eyes over the congregation, dozens of small people clothed in pastel colours, weird-faced inside their hoods, slightly soiled on the soles of their booties. They gazed at him as if he were an exotic obelisk, transmitting messages from afar. Behind them, blurred in the humid mist, the blockish structures of their city glowed amber. There was room in there for many more than were seated here before him.

‘Did Frank teach only Jesus Lovers?’ he asked. ‘Or did he teach anybody who wanted to learn?’

‘Tho??e who have no love for Je??u?? al??o have no wi??h for learning. They ??ay, “Why ??hould we ??peak a language made for other bodie???”’

‘Are they . . . The ones who don’t wish to learn English, are they angry that USIC came here?’

But it was no use asking the Oasans about feelings. Especially the feelings of others.

‘Is it difficult,’ he asked, trying a different tack, ‘to produce the food that you give to USIC?’

‘We provide.’