"Is this a bathing facility for weary travelers?" God asked.
The madam smiled. "Well, every room comes with a shower. Come on in and meet the ladies."
God followed her and I followed him, trying to get my Nossad out of my pocket with one hand while I held the paper cup of water with the other.
Inside, seven girls had lined themselves up for inspection. All young and pretty, their helmets were brightly decorated with colorful flowers and butterflies; five were Asian and two were Caucasian. As God and I looked at them, they smiled and winked.
"You girls help them make up their minds," said the Madam.
Six of the girls immediately went over to God, crowding around him. The remaining one frowned as she looked me over, her hands on her hips. I was lifting the Nossad to my lips when one of the girls evidently grabbed God the wrong way.
"Harlot from Hell!" he thundered, causing me to drop my meds. He glared at me in angry astonishment. "They are harlots!"
"And just who do you think you are," said the Madam, "God? You have no right to insult my girls like that!"
I heard a racket and some thuggish-looking guy wearing a black Nazi motorcycle helmet came hurrying down the stairs--the bouncer, I assumed. Grim determination on his face, he was pulling a club out of his jacket and headed straight for God, but God was faster. Staff raised, he turned the guy into a smoking burst of red, glowing ash. The women screamed and again I dropped my Nossad as the place erupted in chaos, doors opening all over the place and helmeted johns coming out everywhere, all of them anxiously pulling on their shorts or pants as they anxiously ran for the exits while God smote them right and left like a kid playing a video game. The place caught fire and the chaos ratcheted up. I ducked back down to the floor, trying to locate my pill. It started getting hot and I gave up and headed for the exit.
Outside, a crowd of local people milled around on the pavement. The fire in the building was spreading fast and I could hear fire alarms in the distance. A window on the second floor burst and flames poured out, licking up at the asphalt roof tiles. About a half dozen more johns ran out, disappearing into the crowd.
I took advantage of the confusion to walk down the block and get into the car. I reached into the glove compartment to get my date's address and the directions to her place that I had written down earlier. The paper wasn't there! I searched the glove compartment thoroughly and then I saw it on the floor. That was how he did it! He had rifled my car earlier and already knew where I had planned to go this evening. He was no mind reader and he certainly wasn't God. I again recalled the writings of Von Daniken and Sitchin and realized that it was more likely he was one of those all-powerful ancient astronauts from other worlds that they wrote about. And I wouldn't be surprised to find out that his name was Zorg or Zargon, or something, and that he was some kind of outlaw too. Perhaps at this very moment some alien police force was searching the solar system for him.
I decided I better get away while I had a chance and I was just about to start the car when the door opened and Zargon got in. "What?" he said sarcastically. "Surprised to see me?"
"No," I said, "I just wanted to listen to the radio while I waited."
He gave me a cynical smile. "Well, you forgot to turn it on."
I felt foolish as I realized he was right. "Listen," I said, trying to humor him, "this has been very interesting for me, learning about your religion and all. I feel like I've gotten a lot out of it. I really do. But I have this engagement I have to go to and..."
"Shut up and drive," he said.
"Of course."
I started the car and we joined the traffic. I went back to 6th Street and headed north. Traffic slowed at Mission and I spotted a big jam up ahead on Market Street. There were people standing around with signs and the San Francisco cops were on both sides of the streets. Listening to the distant cacophony of drums ricocheting off the buildings, I realized it was a parade of some sort. As we drew closer we passed two men wearing only lederhosen and holding hands as they walked along. Another man wearing not much more than a purple superman cape rolled along on a seniors' scooter with a rainbow pennant flying above him. Realizing what it was, and with the scene at the massage parlor still fresh in my mind, I quickly turned left onto Mission, the tires squealing in complaint. I could imagine what would have happened had we gone straight and Zargon had been suddenly confronted with the sight of 100 marching men wearing nothing but jock straps and black combat boots as they twirled and tossed their shiny batons aloft in synchronized precision.
Kerblouie! Kerblam!
"Why did you turn?" Zargon demanded.
"Short cut," I said.
His eyebrows compressed with suspicion "Go down there," he said, pointing me toward Van Ness. We came to the intersection of Geary and Van Ness and Zargon pointed to the left. As the sun slowly set we rolled down the six lane expanse of Geary, headed for the Muslim Quarter. "Where do you want me to turn?" I asked him, worried about what would happen if we continued going straight and crossed the panhandle.
"No turns, just drive on," he said. "I'll tell you when to stop."
We hadn't gone three blocks past 19th Street when we passed the first mosque. A crowd of bearded men milled about on the pavement outside. The call to prayer could be heard from the minaret above.
Zargon stuck his head out the window looking up at the building as we drove past. "What the..." he said. "Pull over."
I did, putting the car in park but leaving the engine on. I looked over. I was struck by the sight of dozens of children yelling excitedly as they ran around without helmets on, some of them playing dodge ball, which had long been illegal. Ever since the passage of the Leave No Child Behind Law, child-bearing required a license, which most people didn't qualify for, and so the sight of large groups of children was most unusual. I recalled the campaign for the bill's passage and the slogans--Fertility is Disability; Sterility is Responsibility. There had been an initial outbreak of violent demonstrations in the Muslim and the Undocumented communities after the bill's passage and both groups had subsequently been exempted from the law.
"I'm going in there," he said.
"Okay. I'll wait here."
"Yes," he said, "and just to make sure... " He grabbed the keys out of the ignition.
"Why did you do that?" I said angrily.
"So you won't run away like a wuss."
We got out of the car.
Just as Zargon started across the street, a woman came out of a darkened doorway. "Halt!" she said. She was wearing the uniform of the dreaded San Francisco Parking Authority.
Zargon halted.
She came into the dim light of the street lamp. "I'm arresting you for attempted jaywalking," she said to Zargon.
I swallowed hard as Zargon started laughing.
The SFPA officer seemed surprised, then her face hardened and I saw her pull something from her belt--a taser! She came at him, the taser extended, but Zargon was faster. Raising his staff, he smote her with a mighty bolt of clean, non-polluting electrical power. Smoke and steam rose from a small pile of glowing ashes on the sidewalk.
"Now look," I said to him, "I've been doing my best to assist you in your mission, but I don't think I'm cut out for all this. Why don't you just borrow my car, I mean, chariot, and then you can go wherever you want for a couple of hours?"
He was looking at me like I was some kind of bug. I went on, "It's got an automatic transmission, so you should be able to drive it alright."
Still he said nothing as he continued to stare at me.
"I don't think I'm a good partner for your, uh, campaign here," I said. "I don't care about what all these people are doing as long as they're not bothering me or hurting anyone."
A slight smile broke the hard set of his jaw. "That's because you're weak," he said, his eyes continued to bore into mine.
I shook my head. "No. I'm sorry you feel that way. But I think we've come to a parting of the..."
He grabbed my face with his big, meaty hand. His grip was as powerful as a vice and tears of pain poured from my eyes as he pushed me backward.
"The next time you defy me," he roared, nodding at the glowing pile of ashes, "will be the last!"
He shoved me and I fell on my ass on the sidewalk. As I watched him walk across the street and into the mosque, my breathing was rapid and I felt something--anger, I think it was--hot and all-consuming. I thought of maybe getting some bottled water and taking my Nossad to calm down, but I knew that even a whole bottle of Nossad could never quiet this awful feeling I had. I also knew that I had to get away from this guy.
I heard screams from across the street. A window blew out and glass rained down onto the pavement. Fires could be seen inside the place. I had to get away. But before I could do anything, Zargon was getting back into the car. I got into the driver's seat as a Toyota truck left the parking lot across the street with a half dozen bearded guys in the back waving Kalashnikov rifles and shouting, "Allah Akbar" angrily.
Zargon shook the keys in front of my face. "Now we're going to Orinda. Get back on the freeway."
I didn't say anything, but my mind was working a mile a minute. I had to figure out a way to ditch him. I recalled my new lady friend, Michelle's face. Although she fancied herself a witch, it was all fairly innocent. She didn't hurt anybody with it. But if this guy got ahold of her and her friends and if I was the one who took him there... Well, the thought was terrible. I had to find a way to stop him.
*
