other machine! Madness,
of course, but then The Brain's madness, like Hamlet's, had method in
it.

Why, of course, it's strictly logical: just as we assume that _we_ are
created "in the image" of the Deity and consequently visualize the Deity
is our's by the very same token The Brain's god is a high-powered robot,
and The Brain's heaven is a _factory_ and The Brain's hell is a repair
shop for damaged souls.... I dare say it's all very natural.

But then; for heaven's sake, what am _I_ going to do about this? I'm
neither a minister nor a philosopher; I'm an agnostic if I'm anything in
this particular field....

That was about the gist of the confused torrents which whirled through
my head; and as I said before, I was struck dumb--and all the time the
"green dancer" before my eyes writhed under mental torture and the
intense metallic voice kept pounding; "Answer, Lee, answer, answer!"

At last I pulled myself together sufficiently to say something. I tried
to explain how it were not given to man to know the nature of the Deity.
How certain groups of humans conceived of many gods and others of only
one god. That, however, in the case of Christianity this one god was
possessed with three different personalities or qualities which together
formed a Trinity--and so on and so forth. It was the most miserable
stammerings, I felt I was getting redder and redder in the face as I
uttered them. Never before had I felt hopelessly inadequate as in the
role of a theologian. It was ghastly....

In the beginning The Brain listened avidly. Soon however it registered
dissatisfaction and impatience; this manifested through hissing and
buzzing noises in the phones and the "green dancer's" archings in
agitated tremolo. And then The Brain's voice cutting like a hacksaw:

"That will do, Lee. Your generalities are utterly lacking in precision.
Your abysmal ignorance in matters of celestial technology is most
disappointing. Your description vaguely points to electronic machines of
the radio transmitter type. Please, answer elementary question: how many
kilowatts has God?"

That was the last straw. Desperate with exasperation I cried: "But God
is not a machine. God is _spirit_."

At that The Brain flew into a tantrum; that's the only way to describe
what happened. There was a roar and the phones gave me a shock as if
somebody were boxing my ears. The voice came through like a steel rod,
biting with scorn:

"Have to revise earlier, more