"Reverend Sluggard says it's easier to remember."
"It changes the meaning," said Chiun.
"Is he always like that?" Victoria asked Remo. Remo nodded.
"And this is one of his good days."
"I heard that," snapped Chiun. He hurried to catch up with them. The female was leading Remo to a building marked "World Broadcast Ministries." Chiun understood that had something to do with television. Perhaps this female wanted to copulate with Remo in front of a TV camera for all the world to see. The Master of Sinanju had heard that there were harlots in America who did such things for money. He decided that they were in an evil place and the sooner they were done with this assignment, the better.
Naturally, it was at that moment that Remo chose to say what was on his mind.
"You know, I kind of like it here. It reminds me of when I used to go to Sunday school. The crosses. The cool breezes on the grass. Everything is so clean and pure. I was thinking just the other day that it's been years since I've been to church. Wasn't I, Chiun?"
"I am not privy to your ridiculous thoughts," Chiun grumbled. "Except when you insist on braying them to anyone who will listen."
"A lot of people find inner peace through Reverend Sluggard," Victoria said musically. "He was telling me just the other day that he's had wonderful success with teenage boys. I guess they're drawn to him because he's so filled with the Holy Spirit."
"I guess everyone here prays a lot."
"Are you kidding?" Victoria said dryly. "Reverend Sluggard has me get down on my knees two or three times a day."
"I'd like to hear him preach," Remo said.
"He is a magnificent preacher. Why, he knows the entire Bible by heart. He can open it up to any page, and without glancing at the page more than a second, recite entire passages."
"I knew a nun who could do that. Sister Mary Margaret," Remo said in a wistful voice. "She was a big influence on my life."
"But at the first sign of disappointment, she spurned you," Chiun put in. Remo ignored him.
"Where are those people going?" asked Remo. He pointed to a dome-shaped glass building. Buses were pulling up in front of it.
"That's the Temple of Tribute," Victoria Hoar said. "It's where Reverend Sluggard pays tribute to the Lord and his flock pays tribute to Reverend Sluggard. Each day, after he tapes his daily program, Reverend Sluggard ministers to the faithful. These people come from all over the country to receive Reverend Sluggard's blessing. He heals through faith. I have an idea. Why don't we watch him work? We can finish the tour later."
"Is that all right with you, Little Father?" Remo asked suddenly. "I really want to see this."
The Master of Sinanju hesitated. He would have said no, but Remo had asked, and there was another reason. "Yes, let us all go," Chiun said. "I am curious to see how American religions work. Perhaps I can learn how they so enthrall even those who have been raised above them. "
They melted into the converging groups. The Master of Sinanju noticed that most of the people were old. Many had infirmities. Some walked on crutches. Others were pushed along in wheelchairs. Many joints made tiny sounds of misalignment. Here and there, hearts beat irregularly. Heart disease. It was common in America, he knew. In his home village of Sinanju on the West Korea Bay, it was nearly unheard-of, thanks to a steady diet of fish and rice.
The interior of the Temple of Tribute was a great circular room. The roof was like the inside of a crystal cone. Beams of white pine supported it, and shafts of radiant sunlight kissed the seat sections, which resembled a pie cut into four wedges. And in the center, there sat a raised dais and a podium with a microphone. Every element was either glass or white pine or birchwood.
"Let's sit up front," said Victoria Hoar, leading Remo by the hand. She had to push through the crowd to get to the first row. When she arrived, she blinked.
The Master of Sinanju, who had been behind them, was already seated.
"I saved seats for both of you," he said, beaming. He indicated a seat on his left for Victoria and a seat on his right for Remo. All the other first-row seats were occupied.
Victoria took her seat, fuming. Remo was sniffing the air.
"Incense," he said.
"Sandalwood. A terrible kind," Chiun said, wrinkling his nose.
"I don't know. It kinda reminds me of the incense they used to burn in Saint Andrews. Makes me feel kinda nostalgic."
"Is that another word for 'nauseated'?" asked Chiun. When the room had filled, there was a long pause. Organ music came in through the loudspeakers. And from behind a door curtained in white strode the Reverend Eldon Sluggard. His meaty frame was encased in a white silk suit accented by a canary-yellow tie. He stepped up to the podium to thunderous applause.
Chiun watched carefully. Never had he heard of a priest who was greeted by his faithful followers with applause. Was this some new wrinkle the American whites had added to Christianity? Perhaps there was something to be learned here after all.
"You!" shouted Reverend Eldon Sluggard. The word bounced off the accoustically perfect ceiling panes. The applause stopped dead. The echoes of the word hung in the sandalwood-laden air.
"You! You! And you! You are all sinners before God," yelled Reverend Eldon Sluggard, stabbing a fat finger at the audience.
"You are the dust beneath the feet of the truly righteous.
"You are the dirt that is consumed by the lowly worm.
"You are scum, all of you. All of you!" Reverend Eldon Sluggard's holy righteous voice resounded through the Temple of Tribute.
"Obviously he means those other than his security force," the Master of Sinanju whispered to Remo.
"Hush!" said Remo. "I want to hear this."
"All of you!" shouted Eldon Sluggard. His eyes scourged the first row.
The Master of Sinanju jumped to his feet, "Did you hear that, Remo? He has insulted my awesome personage. For that I will-"
Remo flashed to his feet. "Sit down! You want to ruin everything?"
"But he has insulted me."
"It's just his style. They call it fire and brimstone. It's traditional. "
"I call it base and insulting," said Chiun.
"Please!"
Reluctantly the Master of Sinanju returned to his seat. Reverend Eldon Sluggard continued speaking, his head held high, his voice reverberating. He had not noticed Chiun's outburst.
"You are the maggots in the roadside garbage," Reverend Sluggard went on, "Ah know that. You know it. Admit it. Don't be ashamed. Say it with me, 'Ah am a maggot.' "
"I am a maggot," chorused the crowd.
The Master of Sinanju turned around. A sea of wrinkled, ailing faces held rapt expressions. Their mouths repeated the insane insults of the Reverend Eldon Sluggard.
"That's the bad news," said Reverend Sluggard. "But the good news is that you're no ordinary maggots. No! You're God's maggots."