My friend John Barnabus – that’s what he’s most commonly called – has his home and office high in a jade-green tower near the center of New Jerusalem. His location doesn’t reflect his status as a Son of God in Power as such, but rather the importance of what he does for his brethren.
Like all Sons of God in Power, John Barnabus has many names. There is one name which no one else knows but himself: a password to the deepest secrets of God Almighty and the Lamb. I have such a password myself, plus more openly used names than John Barnabus or most of my other brethren. I’ve always been that way, even as a mortal. I seem to be a collector of names and nicknames. But my birth name was Christopher Alan Ralston, and that’s still the name I most commonly use. Strictly speaking, I use most often what I called myself as a child: Chris Alan. It has a certain quirky ring to it, much like its owner.
In case you haven’t guessed, my parents named me after Alan Alexander Milne (the English author) and his son Christopher Robin Milne (the inspiration for the father’s literary character Christopher Robin). And indeed as a child I looked a lot like Christopher Robin, with my barley-blond hair, bright brown eyes, sensitive features and slender frame. Christopher Robin was drawn from Christopher Milne’s life, and so Christopher Robin and I were very much alike in some ways and very different in others. According to the Theory (what we call a particular model of personality that we find useful, even now), one could say that Christopher Robin (like his namesake) was a Mechanic and I was a Protector. But I digress…
John Barnabus was and remains a Scientist himself. That means he and I have most factors of basic temperament in common, yet we differ completely in the way we make decisions. He emphasizes facts and logic, while I emphasize feelings and values. Even among Sons of God, such a difference makes people like us relate most naturally as casual friends. The fact that we are so more than that shows just how much he has taken me into his personal circle.
One day – not that “day” has any real meaning around here – John Barnabus invited me to visit his office. The first thing that I noticed when I arrived was how it had been so completely redecorated. Every so often he tried something new, with the help of brethren skilled in carrying out his ideas. This time, as much as possible was based either on pentaminos – twelve figures based on five squares joined side by side – or else on their three-dimensional counterparts. The floor tiles (where the floor was not carpeted) were pentaminos, all of them set so that no wall and no doorway of any room ever cut through any of them. The sliding partitions between some of the rooms were made of latticework, again based on many thousands of small pentaminos all perfectly joined together. The bricks used in some of the walls were made of three-dimensional pentaminos, each one made of five cubes joined face to face. The effect of the whole, which included other design elements, was striking yet understated, like everything else about John Barnabus.
*This took more than a little calculation to work out,* I thought in admiration.
“I think I’m going to stick with this design, Chris Alan,” said a voice. It spoke in Idealized Hebrew, the form that Hebrew had taken after the Lamb’s return to earth. It combined the euphonic beauty of Biblical Hebrew, the syntactical clarity of Middle Hebrew and the pragmatic flexibility of Late Hebrew. John Barnabus and I share a love of Hebrew in all its forms, especially the Idealized one, and that’s what we speak when we get together.
One welcome custom had been introduced worldwide after the Lamb had set His hand to rule: a greeting with a holy kiss on the cheek, often coupled with a friendly embrace. To me it was far preferable to the handshake (“see, no weapons”) that had been customary in my own mortal culture.
“I always knew you liked pentaminos as a puzzle,” I said, “but I had no idea you liked it as a potential design motif.”
“You’ll find nothing else like this in New Jerusalem, I assure you,” said John. “I checked. There’s a sizeable Pentaminos Club that meets in the outskirts of town, and none of its members use the motif in architectural design. Many of them probably will soon, though; they were thrilled when I showed them my sketches. But to carry out the idea so elegantly is not what my mind’s designed for. It’s good to have real interior decorators among my colleagues. The chief designer of this layout happens to be a Protector, just like you.”
