Seeing no one, he closed the door, then bolted it in fear. And sitting on his bed he called into the dark, “Hater, give back my flame.” The darkness would not answer him, till in a firmer voice he almost shouted, “I now command you in the Singer’s name and the name of his machine of death, give back my light and then give substance to yourself.”

Instantly the lamp relit itself. Its light fell out upon a handsome youth.

“Are you unchained?” the young man asked.

“Yes,” Anthem said. He tried to match the fairness of the youth with what he thought that he would see. “I want all the light you took from me, World Hater!”

The flame burned brighter still.

“Yes, I’m unchained—invaded, too.” Then Anthem spoke in boldness, “I know you are the World Hater in disguise. And I no longer fear the pipe you play that once drove me insane.”

“I gave my pipe away, Madman …” His voice trailed off in huskiness.

“My name is not Madman, it is Anthem. The Father-Spirit says I am too sane to wear the name you gave me, Hater.”

“Please … do not call me World Hater now—my name is Sarkon.”

“You do still hate the world?”

The boy then smirked. The tendons rippled in his ivory neck. He drew a slur across his heavy lips. “Of course I hate. But Terra will not know. Every one will see Sarkon a lover whose affection is much stronger than the love of …” His mouth still moved but would not frame the word.

“You cannot say ‘The Singer’ can you? Your hate has no coordination for such a lovely name.”

“Yes,” the youth went on, “I, Sarkon, will pose as Terra’s lover, try to pry her from her track and roll her into some galactic hole filled with stellar putrefaction. I am committed to her last destruction. I have infected every corner with the desire for power and greed, as you will see. I have smeared the continents with lust for blood not even your Invader can swab clean.”

“A thousand were unchained today,” said Anthem.

“But millions still are mine and hate the myth you love.”

“It isn’t myth, Hater!”

“I’ve told you that my name is Sarkon now. Do you notice any newer facets to my form, Anthem?”

“You’re taller somehow. Studied, handsome, muscular. Your hair looks like a sculptured head I once saw in a pagan shrine. You look much like a mountain god.”

Sarkon was delighted. “I am—fresh from a temple men can see. Yes, I am man as he was meant to be—ideal humanity—managerial and strong, empirical and wise with answers that are more visible than yours. And I know science too. Come talk with me about creation and you will be embarrassed by my questions.”

Anthem grew angry. “I thought you said you would have answers from your sciences and now you talk of questions.”

“I’ve answers to your answers; and questions for your questions.”