Jay had given up trying to reason with Ilaria about God. The man was intelligent as well as brilliant--there's a tremendous difference--about everything else, but he was stubbornly obstinate to Jay's arguments. At least in Jay's terminology he was stubbornly obstinate. All faith is stubborn obstinacy. Kevin Ilaria's faith was appalling. His arguments were beautiful. Flawless. Jay thought of his old friend, Father O'mare. Even that great psychologist-priest would be hard-put, he decided. So he quit. He didn't give up. He just quit. Can you tell a man the Earth's flat after he's been up in a jet? Can you talk a bullet out of pursuing its path? Can you reason with a Marxist? "If a man can conquer the greatest enemy the world has ever faced, is he not God? If he can turn from killing and soldiering to soothing and pacifying, is he not God? If he can make the world one, after twenty-two centuries of 'world anarchism' is he not God? If he can maintain the peace and keep the people happy and heal all sores is he not God? If he just looks at you when you call him 'God' or 'Savior' and smiles and say 'I?' is he not God? If he chooses the perfect man to continue in his place, is he not God?" "But that's proof! Why die? Isn't God immortal?" "Only God could realize that one man can't continue to reign indefinitely. His ideas, yes. But he must create another to carry on his ideas. There must be variety and diversions." Unshakeable. Unquestioning. Jay could never understand a person's sticking to the claim 'I'm a Christian' or 'I'm a Moslem' when he would be killed for it. Jay had always figured he'd have said to Nero's men 'Me? Me? A filthy Christian? Not I. I love Jupiter and Juno. Step inside and see my altars ...' Now he was seeing what sturdy, rock-firm martyr faith was like. So he quit. Instead he learned about the gyro-jet cars which hugged the roads like lovers on a honeymoon. He watched them sprout stubby wings and breathe flame and soar straight up. He learned about saying 'Open' to a lock and having the electronic device 'recognize' him and let him in. He learned about personalphones which 'recognized' your voice. He learned about the tiny pellet of potassium cyanide and sulphuric acid with which the guns were loaded. The pellets struck and broke and the victim was dead in seconds. Very humane. No maimed or wounded. Just the dead. He learned about self-shaping sandals--the most comfortable and most sensible shoes man had ever worn--and air baths and soft-voiced alarm clocks which politely told you it was time to get up and about unbreakable ring-finger chronos and about atomic heating and flawless plumbing and he saw plastic, plastic, plastic. He learned about all of them. But his real delight was the depilatory cream. This, above all others, was man's greatest invention. "No shaving ... no silly damned socks or tight, hot shoes or tie ... no battery stalling or flat tires ... I guess this is paradise, Kevin!"