The Stainless Steel Rat Goes to Hell Read Online Free PDF

belief. This fake guru is trampling about where he doesn’t belong. In people’s beliefs, their most intimate feelings. In the matter of religion it is live and let live, I say. I tell no one
what to believe. I even listen carefully to sincere beliefs, no matter how nutsy they sound. But Slakey-Fanyimadu is playing with fire. Preaching fakery, using machines to con the unsuspecting into believing in an afterlife that in this case can’t possibly be true. If Heaven is the place you go after you die—well there is only one way of getting there. Guided tours for a quick inspection are just not in order. What is going on here is very dirty and could be very hurtful as well. If he were showing his unsuspecting marks a real Heaven they would go to, well fine. He would only be depriving them of their money, which is a wonderful and noble thing to do. But he is depriving them of their individuality and their trust. He is lying to them, preying upon their fear of death. When they discover what has been done to them they will be hurt, shattered, emotionally destroyed. Whatever else happens—he must be stopped.”
    We growled in unison as we pulled up at the arrivals terminal. Bolivar waved and opened the door. Tanned by UV and still wearing his spacer’s gear, we brought him up to date during the drive home. Once in the house I felt a twinge of appetite. I glanced through the autocook menu with little enthusiasm, unadventurously punched up three of my usual aardvark steak and fries. Silently wishing that I had been ordering for four—a banquet of exotica had that been the case.
    â€œVery well done, Dad, you’re quite a cook,” Bolivar said pushing away his plate and untouched glass of wine. “It has been dehydrated-rehydrated space rations for far too long. I have been thinking of eating their wrappings, which would probably taste better than their contents. So, time to get down to work …”
    At this precise moment as the clock struck the hour, the central computer terminal buzzed, while its screen lit up with Angelina’s image.
    â€œI’ve left this recording for you, Jim,” she said, and my heart, which had leaped up into my throat, settled slowly back to its usual position. “I’m off to church soon, for what promises to be an interesting experience. I don’t believe any of the guff
this meandering idiot Fanyimadu has been feeding us—but I do know that something most interesting is happening. Physical travel of some kind and, I suspect, it may be offplanet. I can’t tell you more right now since I am going mostly on guesswork and, don’t laugh, intuition. It will be dangerous, but I’m going prepared. So if you lose track of me for a bit-don’t lose hope. Bye.”
    She blew a kiss in my direction and the recording clicked off.
    â€œDid she say offplanet?” Bolivar asked. I nodded. “Let’s play it again.”
    We did. And when it ended a second time my mind was made up. “She said offplanet-and she meant it. Any ideas?”
    â€œPlenty,” Bolivar said. “Let us forget Slakey, as you suggested, Dad. The police can search the police files without our help. But this recording tells us things they don’t know. Offplanet covers a lot of space—and so will we. We must start searching the galactic records. We have to find this Temple of Eternal Truth when it surfaces again—under any other name or guise. We list the characteristics it must have and get our search agencies to digging into the records.”
    â€œExactly so,” I agreed. “We will be looking for the modus operandi.”
    â€œI’m not so great on the old dead languages, Dad,” Bolivar said. “But if you mean we will track down this joker and that nutsy religion I am for it!”
    â€œThat’s the idea. It may very well have a different name, and different ways of bringing in the suckers—but the