It was a gorgeous house that would make someone a fine home. A privacy fence stretched around the well-groomed back yard. The windows were large but well sealed, with heavy thermal curtains to save energy. The floor space was about four hundred square meters. A neutral white paint on the walls made the interior bright. The spacious kitchen had all the modern appliances and plenty of cupboards and counters. All the plumbing fixtures were of the highest quality. The kitchen and bath floors were fine reddish-brown tile, while the rest of the ground floor and loft was gleaming hardwood. One corner of the finished basement had carpet soft enough to sleep on. A large hot tub sat in another basement corner next to wide sliding doors opening to the back yard, and a wet bar stood in a third corner. There were as many computer hookups as electrical outlets.

There were no inside walls.
The kitchen was a corner of the ground floor. A shower, toilet, and vanity stood on the same wall as the front door, and a second shower and toilet stood by the hot tub. A pillar in the basement supported a hidden steel beam. A wood-burning stove sat in the basement's exact center, and another directly above it; the bathtub had a place of honor next to the wood stove on the ground floor. The third floor, a loft half the width of the house, was reached by a spiral staircase. A wrought-iron rail at the loft's edge precluded accidents.
The young couple wandered entranced, undisturbed by the house's unusual feature. Because no furniture had been moved in, all three floors were impressive expanses of free space. The man was already planning to set up the entertainment center and big-screen television in the basement's carpeted corner. The woman was thinking about extra shelves, clothes-hanger bars, and towel racks around the walls of the ground floor and loft. When they had children, their beds could be set up in the loft with dressers at the feet, and the basement had room for a guest bed, while their own four-poster would fit admirably in a corner of the ground floor, with its curtains of sound-absorbing velvet...
"It's perfect!" cried the two nudists.

Four weeks later at sunset the doorbell rang and the young corporate executive Jean-Edouard St. Baptiste opened the door. His wife, the model Marie-Louise Leduc, stood at his side. On the front step was a tall man with Oriental features and a woman with a broad face and curly hair sticking out in all directions.
"Welcome!" Jean-Edouard shook Daisuke Francis X. Freitas Thaliath's hand and kissed Azucena Miryam Okelo Nilsson's. His wife kissed Daisuke's cheek, then seized his hand and drew him inside.
Daisuke's eyes widened. "So it's all true!"
"Did you doubt it?" Jean-Edouard laughed as he and his wife slipped their robes off their shoulders.
"May I take your coats?" murmured Marie-Louise. Her rich voice would have given credit to any stage.
"Thanks," Azucena said as she undressed. Her short, pleasantly plump frame belied her rapierlike mind. "You're a lucky fellow, Jean-Edouard," she added as Marie-Louise hung the coats on two hooks next to the door.
"Don't I know it!" laughed Jean-Edouard as he reached for the rest of Daisuke's clothes. But the executive froze, his eyes wide.
"What—" his wife began, then she also stopped in her tracks.
After a long moment Jean-Edouard whispered, "So it's happened."
Marie-Louise pouted. "You didn't tell us! I suppose now you won't want any dinner!"
Daisuke looked down at his own skin. The clear house lights revealed its new olive-green tint as the setting sun had not. Then he made a slight bow to Marie-Louise. "Oh, perhaps I could make an exception for your cooking," he said as if grudgingly.
They all laughed. Then Marie-Louise drew Daisuke by the hand to a chair and virtually pushed him into it. Jean-Edouard swept Azucena up into his arms and set her down in another chair. "Not another word until you tell us all about it!" insisted the executive.
Azucena did. For eleven months she and Daisuke had worked at the University of Montreal on a project with the potential to end world hunger and rescue Earth's threatened ecology. The project had provided them both with their doctoral dissertations, yet they had concealed the true nature of their work by limiting their research to computer models of animals. But eight days ago, after the lab had been deserted for the summer, Azucena had injected into several of Daisuke's lymph nodes the final version of chloroplast cells, photosynthetic cells designed to provide him with all the energy and nutrients his body needed, tailored to mesh with his own genes. Within twenty-four hours the cells had spread through his entire epidermis, aided by deep massage from Azucena. Since then he had eaten nothing and drunk only water enriched with traces of iron and other elements. Azucena had monitored his vital signs continually as he exercised, read, and meditated in the lab's harsh light; they had both slept in the lab so she could respond to any crisis. That very morning, 17 July, she had tested his blood, muscle tissue, and mitochondria, and found them not only normal but unusually healthy. The project was a brilliant success.
When she had finished the tale, the executive rose and strode down the basement stairs to fetch a bottle and corkscrew. Marie-Louise brought glasses from the kitchen as Jean-Edouard pulled the cork. Daisuke sniffed the cork and smiled. Jean-Edouard filled all the glasses with dark, fragrant wine; his wife handed them around as they were filled. "To a successful project!" proclaimed Jean-Edouard, raising his glass.
They drank. Daisuke raised his eyebrows. "Mmm! What is this stuff?"
"Oh, nothing special, just a 'forty-five Merlot."
Azucena looked at him sharply. "Does it taste strange?" He considered. "I can tell now that it's just ordinary wine, but to me it's fruiter, more bitter, and—stronger than any wine I ever tasted. It's almost as if I had never tasted wine before."
"Yes, that would be natural after an eight-day fast," said his colleague. She raised her own glass. "To the end of world hunger!"
After another sip, Daisuke raised his. "To the brotherhood of science!"
Finally Marie-Louise raised hers. "To world peace," she murmured.
Jean-Edouard laughed. "You have lofty dreams, *ma cherie*!"
"*Mais c'est possible, n'est-ce pas*?" She gripped her husband's hand; her knuckles whitened and her voice trembled. "If what they have told us is true, it's possible! You know there's nothing I want more, *mon cher*."
"She's right!" cried Daisuke unexpectedly. "Azucena and I have done this because we want to make a better world! Almost all of the world's problems are because some people deny food and drink to other people. Now the chloroplasts will make it unnecessary to eat! This is one more step in making all men and women equal!"
"Are you all right?" asked Azucena sharply laying a hand on Daisuke's arm.
"I'm fine." He took a deep breath and continued more calmly. "Really, I'm not drunk, but I hate to see oppression, even when it benefits me. I really believe in the brotherhood of all mankind. That's why I did this."
Azucena kissed his lips. "I know, and I've always admired you for it. I believe it too." She raised her glass again and reiterated, "To world peace."
They all drained their glasses.
"I hate to have to bring you back to reality," began Jean-Edouard, " but do you really think—"
But just then a buzzer sounded from the kitchen. "*Le diner! Mon Dieu*!" cried Marie-Louise leaping up from her chair.
In moments the hosts set the table and served dinner. Daisuke took bite-sized samples of every dish as Azucena filled her plate. They both murmured appreciatively.
After a few minutes Jean-Edouard started again. "So, do you really think this will bring world peace? Remember, I'm one of the oppressors you just preached against, Daisuke. I tell you, almost every corporation out there will see this as a threat to their income. These guys play for keeps."
"But you're different, Jean-Edouard," contradicted Azucena. "Look what you did for us! Without your grant we could never have gotten this far."
"Thanks, but I'm one of the few."
"How are you going to present this, Daisuke?" asked Marie-Louise.
After a moment of silence he said slowly, "I haven't really thought ahead. I just thought I'd publish the results in Science or some such publication."
"Don't do it!" warned Jean-Edouard. "A lot of companies watch those periodicals like hawks, just waiting to pounce on any likely-looking invention or discovery. They'd have chloroplasts patented and under lock and key before you could say photosynthesis. You don't really want that—not you two."
"He's right," murmured Marie-Louise, her voice intense. "I work for one of those bastards. They don't care if their stuff comes from some slaveshop in India or Myanmar as long as the price is right. They kill, they rape, they think of nothing but money."
"But you, Marie-Louise," said Azucena, "you're a supermodel. Couldn't you start a campaign of some kind?"
"It would never get published. I'd be in some prison called a drug-rehab center in minutes." Jean-Edouard nodded.
They lapsed into silence, dismayed by what they had set out to do. After a few minutes Jean-Edouard murmured as if thinking out loud, "Perhaps what we need is to fight fire with fire. Form some kind of corporation or organization."
Suddenly Marie-Louise gasped. "I have it!" She leaped to her feet. Her naked flesh gleamed golden and her auburn hair seemed to throw off sparks. "Thus saith the Lord," she intoned. "I have called my disciples Daisuke and Azucena to Myself. Henceforth they, and all who come after them, will be called the Order of the Holy—uh—" Abruptly she ceased acting as a prophetess. "Well, you get the idea."
"Hmm—" Azucena closed her eyes. "A new religion, or religious order. It might work. What do you think, Jean-Edouard? Would a new religious order be safe from the ravages of the corporate world? Could we protect chloroplasts by cloaking them with piety?"
"I think you could," he said slowly. His face suddenly glowed like one of the lamps. "You'd get the ACLU and UNCLU on your side; you'd have all sorts of high-powered lawyers smelling fees from big corporations. You might even get the Vatican in your corner if you went through the Pope to start your new order! Ma cherie, you're a genius!" He kissed his wife noisily.
"Not the Pope," said Azucena hastily. "I don't think John Paul the Fourth would stand for it. He's too busy trying to maintain the traditions of the church."
"But the Baha'i aren't," said Daisuke. "The Baha'i have always believed in the unity of all religious beliefs."
"You're right," affirmed Azucena. "And didn't the Pope and the Guardian meet again just recently?"
"I don't know about that," said Jean-Edouard, "but I think Daisuke's right. You'd do much better with the Baha'i than the Catholic Church. Remember, too, that you'd have all the Buddhists on your side; they haven't all merged with Baha'i like the Tibetan Buddhists did, but that's coming." He looked around; every plate was empty. "*Tiens, ma cherie,* you've done your usual magic. Let's clean up and hit the hot tub!"
Daisuke and Azucena volunteered to help. As they loaded the dishwasher under Marie-Louise's direction, their faces showed slight discomfort and Azucena glanced toward the shower and toilet, unsure of the polite procedure. But Marie-Louise solved the difficulty by sitting and using the toilet without a word as if alone. Her guests gratefully followed her example.
They watched a brief video on the large screen in the basement, then Jean-Edouard poured more wine and they lowered themselves into the hot tub and set the full glasses on its edge. Daisuke glanced at Azucena. "Should I drink this?"
"How do you feel?"
"I'm fine."
"Then I don't see any reason you shouldn't. You can eat, you know; you just don't have to." He sipped and smiled.
"So, Daisuke, what's the project's status now?" asked their host.
"You can see the results," replied the green man.
"Have you told anyone else what you're really doing?"
"No, we haven't," said Azucena. "And it's probably a good thing, too, if we're going to form a new religious order."
"That's right," affirmed Jean-Edouard. "You can claim the Lord told you this stuff was only for people who joined the order."
"No!" said Daisuke and Azucena together. "We shouldn't lie about a thing like that!" Azucena continued, shuddering.
"How do you know it's a lie?" pressed the executive. "Maybe he spoke to my wife a few minutes ago!"
"*Non,* Jean-Edouard!" Marie-Louise laid a hand on her husband's arm. "They're right. We shouldn't lie and claim the Lord has spoken to us. I was just acting, you know," she added to Daisuke and Azucena.
"I figured as much," replied Azucena. "It certainly was an impressive performance!"
"*Merci beaucoup,*" murmured their hostess.
"You know," interjected Jean-Edouard, "maybe we should make it true."
All the others started to protest; he raised a hand to prevent them.
"Maybe we should all pray in our own ways for guidance. In that way we can make it true."
After a few moments' silence, Daisuke and Azucena nodded. Marie-Louise closed her eyes and murmured, "*Dans le nom du Pe`re, et du Fils, et de l'Esprit Sacre', Amen.*" For several minutes each sought their God. Daisuke sat lotus-style in the water, breathing deeply, his face mask-like; the women knelt in the tub's center, Azucena murmuring in Spanish and Marie-Louise in French; and Jean-Edouard simply leaned back with eyes closed.
Finally the executive opened his eyes. "Well, did the Lord speak to any of you or show you a vision?"
"No."
"*Non.*"
"No."
"Hmm—Oh well; now what do we do?"
"I'm not sure," replied Azucena, "but I think Marie's idea is the best we're going to come up with."
"But you'll need a place to start. What would you need to do to continue the project here?" Marie-Louise's eyes widened.
"There's not much equipment," replied Daisuke.
"We could pack the essentials into a single briefcase," affirmed Azucena. "The most important thing is light. Daisuke needs full daylight or its equivalent. Hey! This is a great place for him to go naked the way he needs to! You've even got that privacy fence so he could be outside when the weather's warm enough."
"That's not often, here in Montreal!" laughed Jean-Edouard. He suddenly sobered. "I'm sorry, Marie-Louise; I spoke out of turn. This is mostly your house after all."
"*Mais tu as raison, mon cher.*" Marie-Louise kissed her husband, then seized Daisuke's and Azucena's hands. "You must come. We'll give you the light you need, and you both can stay in the loft. Jean-Edouard and I will protect you until your order is formed, then we'll join you, won't we, mon cher?"
"Uhh—" Jean-Edouard had clearly not considered receiving the chloroplasts himself.
But Daisuke forestalled him. "We accept."
"We do indeed," affirmed Azucena, hugging her hostess. "*!Muchas gracias!*"

Six months later a new link appeared on the official Baha'i web site: KALIMALAIKA: SOCIETY OF THE HOLY. The founders: Dr. Daisuke Francis X. Freitas Thaliath and Dr. Azucena Miryam Okelo Nilsson. On the first page was a dramatic nude photograph of Marie-Louise Leduc. Her hair was still auburn red but her skin was now a brilliant green. Many visitors incorrectly assumed it was a passing fad in make-up.
Within a year the Society was too numerous for the Montreal house and purchased a tract of land off a beach in Costa Rica. The completed compound included dormitories, cabins for married members, a communal kitchen and dining area, open-air pavilions for meetings, and a chapel that looked as if it might rise into space at a touch. Even the bathhouse had no internal walls.

THE END