"In that case it won't be available to everybody right away. Are you going to decide who lives and who stays dead? Suppose you're faced with the choice between a good and virtuous nobody or an evil but talented creative artist."
"I know. The Doctor's Dilemma. I don't have any slick answers to that, Father. But I still don't think it's any reason to suppress this thing."
"Maybe not. On a purely secular level, though, I tell you it's sheer dynamite. Not to mention the opposition you're bound to get from religious groups. Jim, listen to me: you had a wonderful career once. You wrecked it. But now you're continuing your headstrong ways right to the point of self-destruction."
"Which is frowned upon by your Church," Harker snapped, irritated. "But—"
"I'm not talking about my Church!" Carteret thundered. "I'm talking about you, your family, the rest of your life. You're getting into very deep waters."
"I'll shoulder the responsibility myself."
"I wish you could," the priest murmured. "I wish any of us could. But we can't ever do that, of course."
He shrugged, "Go in peace, Jim. Any time you want to talk to me, just pick up the phone and call. I guarantee no proselytizing."
"Of course everything we've just said is confidential, you understand."
Carteret nodded. He lifted his arms, shaking the sleeves of his cassock back. "Observe. No concealed tape-recorders under my garments. No telespies in the wall."