“‘Hallowed be Thy name,’” Lydia said, between clenched teeth. She was just yards from the creature, who was now very rapidly approaching, constantly changing shapes.

“Adore me,” it commanded, “or be annihilated.”

“Annihilated!” Lydia cried, so frightened that she almost forgot to pray.

Seven didn’t dare wait any longer. He let his own beliefs predominate until they flooded the entire environment. The monster disappeared just as the huge mouth, momentarily materializing, opened. Seven snatched Lydia away; she was still yelling the Lord’s Prayer.

“You’re lucky you believe in me, “Seven said, disgusted. “That was all your fault back there, and it took me a while to realize what was going on. But would you let me handle it? No. Not until you were scared to death.”

“How did we get out of there?” Lydia asked.

“I got us out.”

“You!” Lydia cried. “You were a coward. Some behavior for an oversoul! You were ready to do anything the demon told you to.”

Seven sighed. “It’s pretty difficult to explain all this to you, when we’re still in the middle of the action. Look around. What do you see?”

Lydia looked—and looked. On earth, the landscape stayed whatever way it was. Here, it seemed you couldn’t be sure of anything. First she thought that she saw a row of trees, prickly shapes in space; and once she was positive she smelled pine needles. But the next instant, the same shapes wiggled and thickened in some odd fashion until they suggested steeples and a medieval street. Although something always seemed to be out there, whatever it was kept changing.

“It reminds me of Impressionist painting,” Lydia said. “It looks like someone painted wiggly trees with brush strokes that just suggested trees. But when you really look, they aren’t trees at all.” She didn’t like the effect much either. Her literal mind wanted one environment or the other, and she said as much.

Oversoul Seven grinned. He’d changed himself into his version of an artist, a rather antiquated version in Lydia’s eyes. For he was wearing a brown robe and beard to match, and gesturing with a paintbrush straight out of the fourteenth century. “Your mind is painting the pictures or forming the environment,” he said. “I’m purposely letting your mind predominate right now. Earlier you formed the demon because as far as your beliefs are concerned, gods and demons are connected. Look for one, and you automatically find the other. Worse, your belief in God the Father was far weaker than your certainty about demons. So your prayers were only an exercise in futility; and in a way, they only reinforced your belief in evil. You really believe that evil is stronger than good.”

“Well, there certainly seems to be more of it on earth,” Lydia said tartly. “I don’t see how you can sidestep the entire issue. At least I rose to the challenges of the encounter.”