The Greatest Spiritual Secret of the Century Read Online Free Page B

strangers. He felt the doorknob, cool in his hand, and pulled it further open, thinking, I was fired today; the last thing I should be doing is making somebody else’s job harder. “What the heck” he said. “Come on in.”
    The man followed Paul into the living room, closing the door behind him, and walked to the short sofa under the window that looked up Eighth Avenue. “May I sit down for a moment?” he said.
    â€œSure” Paul said, sitting on the longer couch, diagonal to the man. The pizza had upset his stomach, and he was thinking of taking a couple of aspirin and letting himself turn into a TV zombie with the remote control in one hand and the glass of wine in the other. It was a rare indulgence, but sounded appealing; as soon as the salesman left. He added, “But let’s try to get this over with quickly, ok?”
    â€œOf course” the man said, with a glance to his clipboard. “The first question is, ‘Do you believe in God?”
    Paul remembered the evangelist on the street earlier and felt a flush of anger. “Are you from some church or cult?”
    â€œOh, heavens no” the man said, his brown eyes twinkling, smile lines showing around them. “This is for the Wisdom School.”
    The smile disarmed Paul. “What’s that?”
    The man got a momentary faraway look in his eyes, then looked back at Paul. “Every hundred years or so, when the secret seems the most lost, some people will step forward and share it again with the world. That’s our work.”
    â€œSounds like a cult to me,” Paul said.
    The man shrugged. “I’m not here to recruit you. You asked for this.”
    â€œThat’s a joke.”
    â€œNo,” the man said. “It’s serious. You asked right after you so deftly handled that evangelist on the street this morning.”
    Paul thought back and felt a moment of disorientation as he remembered his half-whispered comment that he wished he knew the answers to the spiritual questions that had haunted him since childhood. He looked at the man and heard his own voice drop as he said, “You were standing beside me on the street?”
    â€œAfter a fashion,” the man said, smiling. His smile seemed so heartfelt and genuine, like Paul, when he was a child, had imagined Santa Claus would look.
    â€œI don’t get it,” Paul said. “This is too weird, and I’m thinking that no matter how hard door-to-door selling is, I shouldn’t have let you in. You followed me here.”
    â€œWell, yes, after I gave you a little bit of help”
    â€œHelp?”
    â€œSaving that little girl.” The man’s face turned serious.
    â€œThat was a noble decision, Paul, but I could see that you weren’t going to make it. And I saw that you were willing to give up your life to try. That’s what I saw, and I couldn’t let that happen. So I decided to carry you across”
    Paul took a quick sip of his wine, and the memory of the experience in the intersection washed back over him. “You’re the one who shoved me?”
    â€œNo,” the man said, shaking his head. “I didn’t shove you.”
    â€œThen how did you help?”
    â€œI picked you up and carried you”
    â€œYou what?”
    â€œYou felt my arms under your chest and legs, didn’t you?”
    Paul paused, feeling out of breath, remembering the sensation of the strong arms holding him up and propelling him through the intersection. “But I didn’t see anything.”
    Suddenly the couch was empty, and Paul gasped. There was a small depression in the cushion where the man had been sitting. “Nor do you see anything now,” the man’s voice came from the air.
    Paul looked at the empty sofa and considered the frightening possibility that working too hard, sleeping too little, and being fired had finally pushed him over the edge into total insanity. This