“Have to be careful of those badges,” Boone remarked. “You’d be surprised how many sinners would like to sneak in and sample a little of God’s Joy without having their sins washed away first. Now we’ll just mosey along and sight-see a little while we wait for the third badge. I’m glad you folks got here early.”

They pushed through the crowd and entered the huge building, found themselves in a long high hallway. Boone stopped. “I want you to notice something. There is economics in everything, even in the Lord’s work. Any tourist coming here, whether he attends seekers’ service or not—and services run twenty-four hours a day—has to come in through here. What does he see? These happy chances.” Boone waved at slot machines lining both walls of the hall. “The bar and quick lunch is at the far end, he can’t even get a drink of water without running this gauntlet. And let me tell you, it’s a remarkable sinner who can get that far without shedding his loose change.

“But we don’t take his money and give him nothing. Take a look—” Boone shouldered his way to a machine, tapped the woman playing it on the shoulder; she was wearing around her neck a Fosterite rosary. “Please, Daughter.”

She looked up, her annoyance changed to a smile. “Certainly, Bishop.”

“Bless you. You’ll note,” Boone went on, as he fed a quarter into the machine, “that no matter whether it pays off in worldly goods or not, a sinner playing this machine is always rewarded with a blessing and an appropriate souvenir text.”

The machine stopped whirring and, lined up in the windows, was: GOD—WATCHES—YOU.

“That pays three for one,” Boone said briskly and fished the pay-off out of the receptacle, “and here’s your souvenir text.” He tore a paper tab off that had extruded from a slot, and handed it to Jill. “Keep it, little lady, and ponder it.”

Jill sneaked a glance at it before putting it into her purse: “But the Sinner’s belly is filled with filth—N.R.XXII 17”

“You’ll note,” Boone went on, “that the pay-off is in tokens, not in coin—and the bursar’s cage is clear back past the bar . . . and there is plenty of opportunity there to make love offerings for charity and other good works. So the sinner probably feeds them back in . . . with a blessing each time and another text to take home. The cumulative effect is tremendous, really tremendous! Why, some of our most diligent and pious sheep got their start right here in this room.”

“I don’t doubt it,” agreed Jubal.

“Especially if they hit a jackpot. You understand, every combination is a complete sentence, a blessing. All but the jackpot. That’s the three Holy Eyes. I tell you, when they see those eyes all lined up and starin’ at ’em and all that manna from Heaven coming down, it really makes ’em think. Sometimes they faint. Here, Mr. Smith—” Boone offered Mike one of the slugs the machine had just paid. “Give it a whirl.”

Mike hesitated. Jubal quickly took the proffered token himself—damn it, he didn’t want the boy getting hooked by a one-armed bandit! “I’ll try it, Senator.” He fed the machine.

Mike really hadn’t intended to do anything. He had extended his time sense a little and was gently feeling around inside the machine trying to discover what it did and why they were stopping to look at it. But he had been too timid to play it himself.

But when Jubal did so, Mike watched the cylinders spin around, noted the single eye pictured on each, and wondered what this “jackpot” was when all three were lined up. The word had only three meanings, so far as he knew, and none of them seemed to apply. Without really thinking about it, certainly without intending to cause any excitement, he slowed and stopped each wheel so that the eyes looked out through the window.

A bell tolled, a choir sang hosannas, the machine lighted up and started spewing slugs into the receptacle and on into a catch basin below it, in a flood. Boone looked delighted. “Well, bless you! Doc, this is your day! Here, I’ll help you—and put one back in to take the jackpot off.” He did not wait for Jubal but picked up one of the flood and fed it back in.

Mike was wondering why all this was happening, so he lined up the three eyes again. The same events repeated, save that the flood was a mere trickle. Boone stared at the machine. “Well, I’ll be—blessed! It’s not supposed to hit twice in a row. But never mind; it did—and I’ll see that you’re paid on both of them.” Quickly he put a slug back in.

Mike still wanted to see why this was a “jackpot.” The eyes lined up again.