you do not know the power of God, for God will always
help those who defend their homeland. Any Muslim that we kill on Indian soil
will go straight to hell, for he does not serve God, he serves Shaitan. Any
imam who tells you otherwise is a liar and a shaitan himself. If you obey him,
you will be condemned. Be true Muslims and go home to your families and live at
peace, and let us live in peace with our own families, in our own land."
Her face looked calm and sweet as she uttered these
condemnations and threats. Now she smiled. Peter thought she must have
practiced the smile for hours, for days in front of a mirror, because she
absolutely looked like a god, even though he had never seen a god and did not
know how one should look. She was radiant. Was it a trick of the light?
"My blessing upon India. I bless the Great Wall of
India. I bless the soldiers who fight for India. I bless the farmers who feed
India. I bless the women who give birth to India and raise India to manhood and
womanhood. I bless the great powers of the Earth who unite to help us regain
our stolen freedom. I bless the Indians of Pakistan who have embraced the false
religion of Islam: Make your religion true by going home and letting us choose
not to be Muslim. Then we will live at peace with you, and God will bless you.
"My blessing above all blessings on Caliph Alai. O
noble of heart, prove that I am wrong. Make Islam a true religion by giving
freedom to all Muslims. Only when Muslims can choose not to be Muslims are
there any Muslims on Earth. Set your people free to serve God instead of being
captives of fear and hate. If you are not the conqueror of India, then you will
be the friend of India. But if you intend to be the conqueror of India, then
you will make yourself nothing in the eyes of God."
Great tears rolled out of her eyes and down her cheeks. This
was all done in a single take, so the tears were real enough. What an actress,
thought Peter.
"Oh, Caliph Alai, how I long to embrace you as a
brother and friend. Why do your servants make war on me?"
She made a strange series of movements with her hands, then
drew three fingers backhanded across her forehead.
"I am Mother India," she said. "Fight for me,
my children."
Her image remained on the screen as all motion stopped.
Peter looked from Bean to Petra and back again. "So my
question is simple enough. Is she insane? Does she really believe she's a god?
And will this work?"
"What was that business at the end, with the fingers on
her forehead?" asked Bean.
"She was drawing the mark of Shiva the Destroyer on her
forehead," said Peter. "It was a call to war." He sighed.
"They'll be destroyed."
"Who?" said Petra.
"Her followers," said Peter.
"Alai won't let them," said Bean.
"If he tries to stop them, he'll fail," said
Peter. "Which may be what she wants."
"No," said Petra. "Don't you see? The Muslim
occupation of India absolutely counts on supplying their armies from Indian
produce and Indian revenues. But Shiva will be there first. They'll destroy
their own crops rather than let the Muslims have it."
"Then they'll die in famine," said Peter.
"And they'll absorb many bullets," said Petra,
"and beheaded Hindu bodies will litter the ground. But then the Muslims
will run out of bullets and they'll discover that they can't get more because
the roads are blocked. And for every Hindu they killed, there will be ten more
to overwhelm them with their bare hands. Virlomi understands her nation. Her
people."
"And all of this you understand," said Peter,
"because you were a prisoner in India for a few months?"
"India has never been led into war by a god," said
Petra. "India has never gone to war with perfect unity."
"A guerrilla war," insisted Peter.
"You'll see," said Petra. "Virlomi knows what
she's doing."
"She wasn't even part of Ender's Jeesh," said
Peter. "Alai was. So he's smarter, right?"
Petra and Bean looked at each other.
"Peter, it's not about brains," said Bean.
"It's about
help those who defend their homeland. Any Muslim that we kill on Indian soil
will go straight to hell, for he does not serve God, he serves Shaitan. Any
imam who tells you otherwise is a liar and a shaitan himself. If you obey him,
you will be condemned. Be true Muslims and go home to your families and live at
peace, and let us live in peace with our own families, in our own land."
Her face looked calm and sweet as she uttered these
condemnations and threats. Now she smiled. Peter thought she must have
practiced the smile for hours, for days in front of a mirror, because she
absolutely looked like a god, even though he had never seen a god and did not
know how one should look. She was radiant. Was it a trick of the light?
"My blessing upon India. I bless the Great Wall of
India. I bless the soldiers who fight for India. I bless the farmers who feed
India. I bless the women who give birth to India and raise India to manhood and
womanhood. I bless the great powers of the Earth who unite to help us regain
our stolen freedom. I bless the Indians of Pakistan who have embraced the false
religion of Islam: Make your religion true by going home and letting us choose
not to be Muslim. Then we will live at peace with you, and God will bless you.
"My blessing above all blessings on Caliph Alai. O
noble of heart, prove that I am wrong. Make Islam a true religion by giving
freedom to all Muslims. Only when Muslims can choose not to be Muslims are
there any Muslims on Earth. Set your people free to serve God instead of being
captives of fear and hate. If you are not the conqueror of India, then you will
be the friend of India. But if you intend to be the conqueror of India, then
you will make yourself nothing in the eyes of God."
Great tears rolled out of her eyes and down her cheeks. This
was all done in a single take, so the tears were real enough. What an actress,
thought Peter.
"Oh, Caliph Alai, how I long to embrace you as a
brother and friend. Why do your servants make war on me?"
She made a strange series of movements with her hands, then
drew three fingers backhanded across her forehead.
"I am Mother India," she said. "Fight for me,
my children."
Her image remained on the screen as all motion stopped.
Peter looked from Bean to Petra and back again. "So my
question is simple enough. Is she insane? Does she really believe she's a god?
And will this work?"
"What was that business at the end, with the fingers on
her forehead?" asked Bean.
"She was drawing the mark of Shiva the Destroyer on her
forehead," said Peter. "It was a call to war." He sighed.
"They'll be destroyed."
"Who?" said Petra.
"Her followers," said Peter.
"Alai won't let them," said Bean.
"If he tries to stop them, he'll fail," said
Peter. "Which may be what she wants."
"No," said Petra. "Don't you see? The Muslim
occupation of India absolutely counts on supplying their armies from Indian
produce and Indian revenues. But Shiva will be there first. They'll destroy
their own crops rather than let the Muslims have it."
"Then they'll die in famine," said Peter.
"And they'll absorb many bullets," said Petra,
"and beheaded Hindu bodies will litter the ground. But then the Muslims
will run out of bullets and they'll discover that they can't get more because
the roads are blocked. And for every Hindu they killed, there will be ten more
to overwhelm them with their bare hands. Virlomi understands her nation. Her
people."
"And all of this you understand," said Peter,
"because you were a prisoner in India for a few months?"
"India has never been led into war by a god," said
Petra. "India has never gone to war with perfect unity."
"A guerrilla war," insisted Peter.
"You'll see," said Petra. "Virlomi knows what
she's doing."
"She wasn't even part of Ender's Jeesh," said
Peter. "Alai was. So he's smarter, right?"
Petra and Bean looked at each other.
"Peter, it's not about brains," said Bean.
"It's about
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