Seven stepped back even further as the giant-sized Lucifer changed into a shouting Jehovah, threatening the Israelites and demanding sacrifices. A mountain appeared, and out of a dreadful yet splendid cloud glimmered God the Father’s hands, perfect yet somehow frightening, delivering the tablets with the Ten Commandments to Moses. But even Moses looked insane, Seven thought unhappily: ecstatic, alive to a frenzy.

“That’s prenatal memory also,” Ram-Ram said. “Finally, of course, Lucifer and God the Father behave in rather similar ways for all intents and purposes, so that afterwards the case history gets more complicated.”

“It’s complicated enough for me right now,” Seven exclaimed. “And scary. Doesn’t any of this bother you at all?”

“You forget, I’ve seen it all before,” Ram-Ram said just a trifle smugly. “But watch, now.”

Seven really wanted to leave. He remembered how Lydia felt once as a child during a frightening movie. She was afraid to move for fear that if she turned her back on the screen, the feared images would chase her down the aisle. He really wasn’t that worried, he told himself, and besides he didn’t want Ram-Ram to think he was a coward. So he stayed.

Now the sky-screen showed a thriving city. Donkeys, horses, and people filled the streets. Vendors in stalls surrounded palaces and temples. The tumult was tremendous, as Ram-Ram took a close-up so that Seven could hear the individual voices, when in the next moment, the entire city was destroyed. Seven couldn’t tell what had happened—there was fire, brimstone, smoke; there were buildings toppling, stalls squashed, horses and people making agonizing sounds, a donkey with its head just cut off by flying debris … Seven stared: The donkey was still braying, or so it seemed. Then the sound was cut off as quickly as the head had been.

“You’d think Lucifer did all that,” Ram-Ram said. “But it was Jehovah. You see? With prenatal memories like that, and a father who wiped out whole populations if they angered him—well, even a divine son would be bound to have problems. To that, add the fact that Christ had a human, not a divine, mother. Jehovah didn’t have a divine mate; he was too ill-tempered. No goddess would put up with him. So in a way, Christ was a half-orphan, divinely speaking. He was the son of a father who was basically impotent—hence, the angel appeared to Mary—a father who took his frustrations out on earth, and,” Ram-Ram added triumphantly, “on his son. Why else did he send Christ to be crucified? And no matter how he pretended, Christ knew that his father hated him. Couldn’t face the truth, though, so he projected his father’s hateful qualities onto Lucifer.”