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167
The Status Civilization
·
Robert Sheckley
36
"Would
you
care
for
a
little
wine,
Uncle?"
Barrent
asked.
"Thank
you,
that's
very
thoughtful,"
Uncle
Ingemar
said.
"How
is
business?"
"Fair.
A
little
slow
this
week."
"People
don't
take
the
same
interest
in
poisoning,"
the
priest
said,
moodily
sipping
his
drink.
"Not
like
when
I
was
a
boy,
newly
unfrocked
and
shipped
out
from
Earth.
However.
I
was
speaking
to
you
about
Evil."
"Yes,
Uncle."
"We
worship
Evil,"
Uncle
Ingemar
said,
"in
the
incarnate
form
of
The
Black
One,
that
horned
and
horrid
specter
of
our
days
and
nights.
In
The
Black
One
we
find
the
seven
cardinal
sins,
the
forty
felonies,
and
the
hundred
and
one
misdemeanors.
There
is
no
crime
that
The
Black
One
has
not
performed--faultlessly,
as
befits
his
nature.
Therefore
we
imperfect
beings
model
ourselves
upon
his
perfections.
And
sometimes,
The
Black
One
rewards
us
by
appearing
before
us
in
the
awful
beauty
of
his
fiery
flesh.
Yes,
Nephew,
I
have
actually
been
privileged
to
see
him.
Two
years
ago
he
appeared
at
the
conclusion
of
the
Games,
and
he
also
appeared
the
year
before
that."
The
priest
brooded
for
a
moment
over
the
divine
appearance.
Then
he
said,
"Since
we
recognize
in
the
State
man's
highest
potential
for
Evil,
we
also
worship
the
State
as
a
suprahuman,
though
less
than
divine,
creation."
Barrent
nodded.
He
was
having
a
difficult
time
staying
awake.
Uncle
Ingemar's
low,
monotonous
voice
lecturing
about
so
commonplace
a
thing
as
Evil
had
a
soporific
effect
on
him.
He
struggled
to
keep
his
eyes
open.
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