Don Pendleton - Civil War II by Don Pendleton

voices was singing softly somewhere, recorded of course. A tremendous montage was playing on the back wall, semi-motion, depicting a group of robed figures baptizing one another in the rushing waters of a stream.
    Winston took a seat in a far corner of the chamber, dropping his wearied frame onto an uncomfortable wooden benchlike affair. He AMS'd another inevitable plastic box affixed to the backrest of the seat just ahead, and this started a soundtrack near his right ear, just loud enough for personal listening. Sure, God still lived ... via the AMS sermonette. Winston was not interested in the soundtrack, only in appearing inconspicuous.
    He tried to shut out the soothing tones of the automated sermon and pulled his throbbing ankle onto the opposing knee and tried to rub the ache away, allowing his eyes to travel slowly about the big room.
    He wished the droning voice in his right ear would shut up. "Christians have no guilt with the state of this world," the voice was assuring him. "To many scholars, the present world situation is Armageddon come to pass. (Bet your ass, buddy). It is the prelude to the millenium, and God's chosen have been gathered together here on this continent to receive the blessing of abundant life. We must share no sense of guilt for the famine and starvation loosed upon the abandoned peoples of Africa and Asia. Does mortal manquestion the wisdom and design of He Who Createth All / Rejoice, Christians. Christ has overcome the iniquities ol a sinful world, and America we must rejoice over our God-given abundance. This is the end of this sermonette. Please re-program with your AMS passport to receive the next message, the text of which is .. ."
    Winston abruptly stopped listening and jerked upright in the chair. Two young men had just entered the room and were now standing poised on the balls of their feet, hands clasped behind their backs like undertakers, looking die place over. They spotted Winston and began moving slowly in his direction.
    He casually got to his feet, pivoted toward the exit, then beat it in a fast Walk. He glanced over his shoulder as he cleared the doorway and saw that the men were now walking rapidly after him. He went through the exit vestibule, then doubled back to mix in with a thin crowd of churchgoers who were moving up the steps to the entrance.
    Winston jostled and pushed his way to the head of the queue, flipped his card into the NEW AGE slot, and passed back inside. It seemed unlikely that his pursuers had been able to follow that quick reverse.
    The New Age chamber featured a totally different atmosphere. It was semi-dark. The domed ceiling was a universe in slow motion—stars, moons, and distant galaxies all moving about some sublime center. There was a sweet smell to the air and a faint humming sound trailed down from the dome, the sound of spheres or molecules in motion, Winston presumed.
    He dropped onto an overstuffed leather lounge, noting the inevitable plastic box buried in the armrest. A pretty girl sat to his right. He smiled at her but she offered no awareness of his presence. Winston supposed that she was meditating or something. He debated using the AMS card again, then decided again in favor of inconspicuity. He dropped the card through and immediately experienced a not-unpleasant electric shock where he sat. A little tray slid out of the armrest, offering the worshipper a plastic packet.
    He picked up the offering and glared at it in the dim light. It contained some sort of fine powder. A trade name, stamped near the top of the packet, read merely EXPANDO.
    Hallucinogen, Winston decided. He dropped the packet into his pocket along with the AMS card and wondered about the tingling in his butt. Something was getting energized down there. He felt himself getting an erection, and tried to mentally discourage it. He looked at the girl next to him. She was still in some other world. Then he noted the color wheel in a little box facing hear. Psychedelics. He