Nie. Brak niebezpieczenstwa, stabilizacja, za daleko posunieta specjalizacja, brak odrobiny szalenstwa prowadza do degeneracji i smierci. Ograniczaja. Jak chow wsobny. I to nie sa truizmy czy banaly. To smierc.
"You, Priest in your mufti," The Preacher called, "you are a chaplain to the self-satisfied. I come not to challenge Muad'Dib but to challenge you! Is your religion real when it costs you nothing and carries no risk? Is your religion real when you fatten upon it? Is your religion real when you commit atrocities in its name? Whence comes your downward degeneration from the original revelation? Answer me, Priest!"
But the challenger remained silent. And Alia noted that the crowd once more was listening with avid submission to The Preacher's every word. By attacking the Priesthood, he had their sympathy!
And if her spies were correct, most of the pilgrims and Fremen on Arrakis believed this man was Muad'Dib.
"The son of Muad'Dib risked!" The Preacher shouted, and Alia heard tears in his voice. "Muad'Dib risked! They paid their price! And what did Muad'Dib achieve? A religion which is doing away with him!"
How different those words if they come from Paul himself, Alia thought. I must find out! She moved closer up the steps and others moved with her. She pressed through the throng until she could almost reach out and touch this mysterious prophet.
She smelled the desert on him, a mixture of spice and flint. Both The Preacher and his young guide were dusty, as though they'd recently comefrom the bled. She could see where The Preacher's hands were deeply veined along the skin protruding from the wrist seals of his stillsuit.
She could see that one finger of his left hand had worn a ring; the indentation remained. Paul had worn a ring on that finger: the Atreides Hawk which now reposed in Sietch Tabr. Leto would have worn it had he lived . . . or had she permitted him to ascend the throne.
Again The Preacher aimed his empty sockets at Alia, spoke intimately, but with a voice which carried across the throng.
"Muad'Dib showed you two things: a certain future and an uncertain future. With full awareness, he confronted the ultimate uncertainty of the larger universe. He stepped off blindly from his position on this world. He showed us that men must do this always, choosing the uncertain instead of the certain."
His voice, Alia noted, took on a pleading tone at the end of this statement.
Alia glanced around, slipped a hand onto the hilt of her crysknife. If I killed him right now, what would they do? Again, she felt a thrill rush through her. If I killed him and revealed myself, denouncing The Preacher as impostor and heretic!
But what if they proved it was Paul?Someone pushed Alia even closer to him. She felt herself enthralled by his presence even as she fought to still her anger. Was this Paul? Gods below! What could she do?
"Why has another Leto been taken from us?"
The Preacher demanded. There was real pain in his voice.
"Answer me if you can! Ahhhh, their message is clear: abandon certainty."
He repeated it in a rolling stentorian shout:
"Abandon certainty! That's life's deepest command. That's what life's all about. We're a probe into the unknown, into the uncertain. Why can't you hear Muad'Dib? If certainty is knowing absolutely an absolute future, then that's only death disguised! Such a future becomes now! He showed you this!"
With a terrifying directness The Preacher reached out, grabbed Alia's arm. It was done without any groping or hesitation. She tried to pull away, but he held her in a painful grip, speaking directly into her face as those around them edged back in confusion.
"What did Paul Atreides tell you, woman?"
he demanded.How does he know I'm a woman? she asked herself. She wanted to sink into her inner lives, ask their protection, but the world within remained frighteningly silent, mesmerized by this figure from their past.
"He told you that completion equals death!"
The Preacher shouted.
"Absolute prediction is completion . . . is death!"
She tried to pry his fingers away. She wanted to grab her knife and slash him away from her, but dared not. She had never felt this daunted in all of her life.
The Preacher lifted his chin to speak over her to the crowd, shouted:
"I give you Muad'Dib's words! He said, 'I'm going to rub your faces in things you try to avoid. I don't find it strange that all you want to believe is only that which comforts you. How else do humans invent the traps which betray us into mediocrity? How else do we define cowardice?' That's what Muad'Dib told you!"
Abruptly he released Alia's arm, thrust her into the crowd. She would have fallen but for the press of people supporting her.
"To exist is to stand out, away from the background,"
The Preacher said.
"You aren't thinking or really existing unless you're willing to risk even your own sanity in the judgment of your existence."
"...Nie wiem nawet czy chcę na ziemię zejść. Tu gdzie ciężko złapać tlen oddychamy już codziennie, ej"
"If nothing saves us from death, may love at least save us from life"