It was not long before someone else come to visit me: Ronnie Stevens (a former schoolmate from junior high school). I had first met Stevens in Portsmouth when we had both been in the ninth grade. We had hung around together for a short while, but had never been close friends.

Before coming over, Stevens had called me, and I had agreed to go out and do some drugs with him this evening. Now that he was here, however, I changed my mind. I was feeling so good about not using any drugs, I did not see any reason to begin. I explained to Stevens that I had changed my mind. I also told him I had another formula for making drugs which I would give to him, a different formula from the chlorine bleach formula. Since he was clearly interested, we both sat down on the floor and I began searching through my billfold for the formula. I soon found another copy of the chlorine bleach formula and handed it to him, but I mentioned to him that I myself would not use the chlorine bleach formula because I thought it was too dangerous. So I continued looking for the other formula I had told him about. I pulled a slew of about 30 credit cards from my billfold, thinking the formula might be written on the back of one of them, but I could not find the formula anywhere.

When I suddenly heard someone at the door, I stood up and I went to answer it. When I opened the door and looked out through the screen door, I was surprised to see Vicki standing there. What surprised me more, however, were the dozen or so other teenagers stationed outside with her. Quickly inferring that they were probably all high, and were looking for a place to party, I told Vicki they could not come in. It seemed that this was my parents' home, and I was afraid I would get in trouble if I let them in to party. Before I knew it, however, Vicki opened the screen door and the whole crew flooded in. No sooner had everyone entered, than Stevens made a hasty exit.

Almost immediately I realized I had been wrong in my original assessment of this group. There were not only 10-12 teenagers, but also two adult couples. Everyone in the group was thin and healthy, and clearly no one was intoxicated. I quickly surmised what was going on. Vickie had duped me: she had not intended to use the chlorine bleach formula at all. Instead, she had proselytism in mind. This was obviously some kind of religious group which she had carted in, and they were going to try to convert me.

I expressed surprise that they had all come without first notifying me. I feigned some indignation, saying facetiously, "I'm glad I'm not drunk." I wanted to shock them into thinking I stayed drunk half the time even though I knew I rarely drank anything. Nevertheless, I felt relieved that I had not had anything alcoholic to drink today, since I was going to have to face this mob.

They all sat down in a row of couches and chairs, facing me. The teenagers were in the middle, whereas the two adult couples were on each end. One of the adult men mentioned the chlorine bleach formula. He knew the formula had been broadcast over the Internet or over television, and he said that such broadcasts should be banned. He also stated that whoever made such broadcasts should be held responsible for any damage caused by the formula. I wondered if he were trying to accuse me of something, since I had given the formula to Vickie. I knew what I had done had been perfectly legal, but it still concerned me that someone might try to stir up problems for me. I retorted, "You want to suppress speech."

I proceeded to deliver a short tirade about how the man simply wanted to deny people the freedom of speech. For myself, there was no question about the inviolability of free speech. Clearly this man was simply another threat to this right.

It was also obvious that the wooden teenagers were surprised by my defense of free speech, as if they had never even thought about the subject. Obviously they were all brain-washed, having been led along by this man and his ilk. I determined right then to try to open up their eyes. I walked over and stood in front of them. There now seemed to be a long round metal bar, about waist high, parallel to the ground, about three centimeters in diameter, which separated me from them. It was the kind of bar typically found in front of a jury box. Just as if I were talking to a jury, I grabbed the bar and began talking, "So what do you want to talk about? Is there a God? Is Christ God?"

Everyone was obviously stunned by the boldness of my spasmodic questions. Clearly the teenagers had never even considered the issues. They had always numbly accepted the sacrosanct fact that God existed without even seeking substantiation. I continued talking and asked them a question about the nature of good and evil. Finally I queried, "Are drugs good for you? Do you like drugs?"

Once again, the teenagers were utterly taken aback by my questions. They had never even weighed the blasphemous possibility that psychedelic drugs might in some way be beneficial for them. The maxim that drugs were bad had been so thoroughly inculcated into them, they thought it was wrong to even ask whether such drugs could have salutary powers, much less to champion the idea. And of course they were offended that I had suggested that one of them might actually use drugs. As I looked into their young faces, I wondered if there might not be someone there who indeed had tasted the forbidden fruit of psychotropic drugs, who was concealing the fact from the others. Even though the teenagers looked shocked, I could tell that they were impressed by the gist of my questions, especially the questions about God. Obviously the teenagers had believed I was a lost soul who had never thought about these topics. Little did they realize that I had reflected at length on these subjects, and that I knew how to discuss them. I didn't think anyone was going to respond, but to my surprise, one fellow spoke up, showing genuine interest in what I was saying, and asked, "What's heaven for?"

I answered, "What's heaven for? That's a good enough place to start."

I said "enough" because I didn't find his question to be terribly astute, but at least his question afforded a place to begin. I immediately began deliberating how I would proceed with my answer. The problem was clear to me. The boy had asked the question as if heaven actually existed. He hadn't asked if there was a heaven; he had asked what heaven was for. I knew this was a typical problem for people who put faith in the Bible. If such people believed what was written in the Bible, there was almost no hope of communicating with them – their minds were already made up. I also knew that such believers tended to think the Bible gave them the power of a "seeing eye," but I tended to think the Bible caused them to have a "blind eye," preventing them from asking questions and searching for the truth. I even visualized the two different eyes, one eye which resembled a glowing sun, and another eye which looked dead.

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