The Oracle Year(41)
“In my faith, we often refer to our constituencies as our flocks, in the sense that we are their shepherds, guiding them through a dangerous, ugly world.
“I love my flock, and I would do anything to protect it . . . but it has dwindled of late, my friends. The Oracle is a wolf in among the sheep, culling them away from the truths we provide.”
Branson spoke carefully. There was a sensitivity to be maintained. Despite his emphasis on their unity of purpose, the truth was that this was closer to a gathering of heads of rival corporations than anything else. He had no illusions that, absent the Oracle, these men would give him the time of day. Their livelihoods and power bases were under siege, that was all. Combining resources might deliver a solution, but certainly not any sort of lasting accord.
But that wasn’t the sort of thing you wanted to come right out and say.
“I would like to begin by saying that my position, from the very start, is that the Oracle is to be approached as an enemy of all our faiths. I do not know how he receives his information, but I am of the belief that it comes from either scientific origins, somehow, or that he is a fraud, creating the events he predicts after the fact. No true prophet would act as he has.”
“What do you propose?” the Sunni cleric said bluntly in heavily accented English, waving his translator back. “We know that the Oracle is a problem, otherwise we would not be here. What solution do you offer?”
Branson smiled through his irritation at the interruption.
“Of course,” he said. “Let us move on to the meat and potatoes, as we say in America. No pork, though, I promise.”
Silence—although several seats away, the Right Reverend Michael Beckwith, a prelate of the Episcopal Church and the representative at this particular meeting of Anglicans worldwide, some 165 million worshippers, smiled down into his coffee. Branson felt momentarily heartened—at least someone in the room had a sense of humor.
“I suggest two courses of action, gentlemen. First, I believe that we should speak out more publicly against the Oracle. To our congregations, to the press. We should make it clear that there is no common ground between our faiths and this . . . this magician. Some of you have already taken action along these lines, but I humbly recommend a unified party line, if you will.”
“What good will this do?” This time it was one of the Hindu priests—Bhatt was his name.
“Why, it will make people think about what the Oracle is, where he comes from. It will raise the seed of doubt in their minds. If the world’s religious leaders all say the same thing—that the Oracle is evil, not to be trusted—it may not stop whatever his plan may be, but I believe it will . . .”
“But we do not know if he is evil,” Karmapa Chamdo said quietly.
Heads turned to look at the man who had spoken—the eighteenth Black Hat Lama, chief of the third-largest sect of Buddhism, with authority to act on behalf of the Dalai Lama himself. He wore maroon-and-saffron robes that appeared infinitely more suited to the creeping desert heat than the suit and tie Branson was wearing.
“The Oracle is outside our present experience,” Chamdo continued, “but do our belief systems almost all, to a one, include the concept of prophets? How can we condemn a man who appears in our midst exhibiting the very divine abilities we describe in our sacred texts?”
“He first offered his predictions on websites connected to the United States, in English,” the Sunni cleric said. “He is not our Prophet.”
“And they say he is asking for money, selling his predictions,” Bhatt said, as if this settled the matter. “We have all heard this. What use would a divine being have for money?”
“The same use our own churches do, perhaps,” persisted Chamdo. “If we can ask our worshippers to donate to support us, why is he forbidden to do so? And I would point out, the Oracle has never claimed a divine origin.
“He is here, with us, in the material world,” the Buddhist continued. “He is part of the natural order of things, part of the great wheel on which we all turn. Surely it would be best to find a way to adapt to his presence, rather than fight it?”
The sentiment in the room was rapidly turning against the Lama, Hosiah was pleased to note. Subtle cues from the other holy men communicated a very strong collective attitude of Whose side are you on?
Karmapa Chamdo seemed to notice this and stopped speaking. He nodded at Hosiah, his face suffused with what was apparently his only expression—extreme calm.
“His Holiness makes excellent points,” Branson said, “but I submit that many of our worshippers are not prepared for the subtle philosophical distinctions we might debate here today. Clothing the Oracle in the guise of evil when we speak of him to our congregations is a simple concept that they will easily be able to understand. However, you all may do as you like, of course.”
Heads nodded around the table. Not all, but most.
“You mentioned a second component to your plan, Reverend?” Beckwith said.
“Yes, thank you, Bishop. This may perhaps be more palatable to Karmapa Chamdo. I believe that a large part of the reason the Oracle is so fascinating to the world is that his nature remains a mystery. If we could discover his identity, show to the world that he is just a man, that his predictions have a secular explanation, why, our problems would be over.
“This brings me back to my original point. Our congregations, taken together, constitute the largest army in the world—billions of people, in every country across the globe.