As my words slowly registered with the old lady, we became witness to one of Christian Science's greatest healings, literally, since we both made it through two decades of Sundays without having seen even one. Whatever prayers for protection the little lady sent out to the heavens were answered in that instant. The fear left her body, she stopped shaking and though she didn't smile, I sensed that suspicion began replacing the panic in her face. Rusty looked at me and shook his head. I pointed to the schedule on the wall and suggested aloud that since we had the time, we ought to attend the testimonial meeting that night. Rusty stopped shaking his head, started nodding in agreement and smiled.

Coming out of the reading room, Rusty said that being in there rekindled his astonishment at the power of Christian Science to seduce the unwary, calling it a form of insidious brainwashing. "But why did you want to go in there?" he asked.

"I just wanted to see if it smelled the same." Once inside, I felt a powerful sense of loss -- the loss of logic, the loss of reality, the loss of youth -- all kinds of emotions that brought on mild nausea. I felt sorry for the little old lady. She was like a mother with six kids and just didn't know better. I had to admit I was surprised by her anxiety, that decades of Christian Science couldn't help keep that at bay, so I took it upon myself to comfort her. At the same time, a rather malicious thought crossed my mind. Having learned to listen to incoming ideas that swirled in my head, I locked on to a thought I had in that room and decided to investigate it.

"It's kind of funny that I go into a Christian Science reading room for the first time in, what, twenty-five years, and instead of being saved, I get nauseated," I said.

"Ah," he said, "but you made the little old lady stop trembling."

"Apparently, I'm more powerful than her god."