Chapter 4 continued

I walked east from the restaurant. At Fifth Avenue, I turned south. By the time I reached the New York public library, I had calmed down, but I wasn’t ready to face Sara. I needed to talk to someone—no, I needed to talk to Maria. I looked at my watch. Maria would be at the university.
    The warm weather continued to bring out the crowds and Preacher John was at his usual place by the Arch when I got out of the taxi at Washington Square. He told his small gathering as I walked past, “Enter the Kingdom of God when Jesus calls you to, ‘Come, follow me.’ Do not hesitate. There is no second chance.”
    Maria was leaving the School of Business when I arrived. “Let’s get a drink.”
    She continued walking. “Not now, Paul.”
    I started to follow. “A cup of coffee?”
    She hailed a taxi. “I’m late for a meeting.”
    “I need to talk to you.”
    “Let’s have lunch. Call me.”
    I still needed to talk to someone. Fortunately, Ben was in his office grading papers. When he saw me, he motioned me to come in and take a seat. “How’d it go?”
    I turned my thumb down.
    He marked a grade on the paper. “I’m finished here. Let’s get a cup of coffee.”
    “I need something stronger than coffee.”

Preacher John was winding down as Ben and I passed the Arch. “We must give up our identity to enter the Kingdom of God where all is one. And remember, the person who hesitates is lost. There is no second chance.”
    I told Ben, “I need to speak with Preacher John.”
    “You know him?”
    “We talk all the time. Mostly about his years in the civil rights movement. John was an attorney, not a minister like King or Williams.”
    When John finished, I introduced him to Ben who immediately challenged him. “If entering the Kingdom of God means losing your personal identity, who would want a first chance, much less a second?”
    “Jesus will answer your question when he returns to judge the living and the dead, Mr. Sachs.”
    “I for one don’t want to give up myself to your Jesus.”
    “The path you follow is broad, Mr. Sachs, and many travel it with you.”
    “Where do you get this crazy stuff?”
    “I witness to what I am taught from within, Mr. Sachs.”
    I interrupted. “John, I want to talk to you about this two worlds idea of yours. Let’s have lunch on Monday.”
    John nodded toward the Arch. “You know where to find me, Paul. And, now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, a new flock awaits.”
    As we walked away, Ben said, “What nonsense. That guy was a cabinet secretary. Why does someone with his ability and connections become a street preacher? He should sitting on the boards of a dozen corporations in this town.”
Ben and I sat at the bar when we reached the tavern. He ordered an Irish coffee and I ordered a shot of rye, straight up.
    “I’m going to pack it in,” I said as I knocked back the shot.
    Ben looked at me with disbelief. “Quit writing? Why?”
    “Barton Roberts rejected my novel.”
    “That’s no reason to quit.”
    “He said it was junk.”
    “He must have been more specific than that.”
    “Yeah, he said I should start over.” I ordered another shot and tossed it down.
    Ben shook his head. “I told you that you should have let me read the manuscript. But don’t worry, we’ll fix it, pal.”
    “Roberts said it couldn’t be fixed.”
    “Forget Roberts.”
    “Roberts is right, Ben. I’m finished.”
    “Nonsense. You can’t let Roberts’ rejection or what happened at the White House get you down.”
    “I’m not.”
    “What then?”
    “I’ve never told the Final Story.”
    “You wasted fifteen years chasing that mirage before you wised up and took my advice.”
    “I compromised my dream.”
    “You Are God made you rich and famous. That’s a compromise anyone but you would die for.”
    “That novel was junk.”
    Ben said, “That’s the booze talking.”
    “It’s my lost integrity talking.”
    “How can you be so bitter? Your success is the envy of every story teller alive including me.”
    “If I hadn’t taken your advice, I might have succeeded in telling the Final Story. Now, it’s probably too late.”
    “This Final Story nonsense is your form of writer’s block, pal. You’re avoiding the next Power Fiction because it’s going to be tough explaining how all events can happen at once.”
    “That’s the easy part,” I said.
    “Really? How come nobody’s ever done it?”
    “It was Preacher John’s idea of two worlds that started me thinking, what if they are equal as well as opposite?”
I took the napkin from beneath my drink and drew a hexagram—two opposing triangles, one atop the other so that they shared the same center. “The two triangles are opposite and equal. What does that suggest to you?”
    “Don’t play games with me, pal.”
    “It’s balance, Ben.”
    Ben’s eyes narrowed as he studied the drawing, then his face brightened. “It’s so simple. There’s only one possible outcome if everything is balanced.”
    “Time is eliminated. All events are simultaneous.”
    Ben smiled. “Balance is an idea that could launch us into non-local post-reality. You may have discovered the next Power Fiction, pal. All you have to do to save your career is tell the story of balance.”
    “No, there’s something missing.”

Chapter 4 continued