The occasion is a holy period to a people in southern Asia, of whom tens of thousands throng the columned interior. The flying visitors enter. Their eyes are instantly attracted upward to the high-vaulted ceiling, appearing like a slightly concaved sky, and of a deep cerulean hue, studded with stars (mystic phenomenon!) as if in deference to night.
In the centre of the vast tessellated floor is a colossal opalescent human statue, typical of and dedicated to the God of Light, seated on a purple throne bordered with plates of gold—the whole eight hundred feet high, and the figure in a commanding attitude, and as dispensing wisdom and exacting reverence. A space around it is paled by a balustrade of sapphire. Behind it, on the wall to the East, is pictured in marvellous glory the rising sun. In its front, outside the sapphire enclosure and toward an entrance in the West, is a broad low altar of polished granite. On it are piled votive offerings of flowers—creatures of the sun.
Emblematic frescoes of light in varying hues, play over and adorn every portion of the wondrous edifice.
The countless throng pressing from many entrances, with faces turned upward to the Idol, and with odorless flambeaux aloft in their right hands, chanted,
“Fire! Genial Fire! Glorious Fire!
Element of light! Hail, Father Sun!”
The flying companions had already taken their station in the space reserved around the Colossus, and near his feet.
Immortal.—“This has degenerated into Fire Worship—another form of Materialism. The wretches adore the emblems, but know not their meaning. Silence! Attention!!”
The people in awe put their left hands over their eyes, and kneel with bowed heads. All the lights, large and small, become dim and wan; an ominous twilight prevails.
Immortal.—“Zoroaster, in the name of Light appear!”