He walks in this time. Black suit, black shirt, black tie. Hard-hat, clipboard, pen. Stands next to Mad Boy. Clicks his fingers, and the walls of the gorge shift and stretch, pulling upwards and forming architectural planes. Our alcove becomes the space under the roof of the tallest part of the structure. I’m in it but I can see it too. It’s the Temple in the city. The biggest one. The Temple, growing in the gorge and looking out over the scrub and the forest Grandad and I have been exploring and learning. I can see forever. I’m scared. Grandad sits. He takes his hat off. There’s the scuffing of feet moving on the roof above our heads. Voices. I can hear the man in black talking. “Watch your footing, boy. Long way down. But of course, that doesn’t worry you, eh? Mind you, you’re looking a bit wobbly. Might be easier just to let go and fall. No shame in that, is there. And no risk. For you. Is there?” Nothing from Mad Boy. The cockatoo, circling. Silent. “You look scared, boy. You don’t need to be scared. We know who’s got your back, don’t we? Or maybe you’re not as sure as all that. Take a look at that view. Beautiful, eh? You look a bit green, son. ’Cept for your knuckles. They look white as bone. Fair cop, it’s an Occupational Health and Safety nightmare up here, eh? I’d tell you to get a grip but you’re hanging on tighter than a limpet already. Don’t tell me you’re scared?” There was a scrabbling of feet. I heard Mad Boy catch his breath. “Careful, boy. Slippery, these tiles. You could fall. Or you could jump. Test your faith. If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you’, and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’ Of course, they might not too. Angels might be on smoko. Wanna try it? I’ll keep a record. Answer the question once and for all?” And I heard Mad Boy say simply, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test’,” 30
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