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With a Vengeance, Page 2

J. B. Woodley

Kyleton Palace, North America

  I don't understand. I've gone over it twice, and I don't understand. Ifonly Elsa were still with me! I could talk to her. She would help medecipher what it's all about.

  This morning, at 10:15 sharp, I was taken to the public audience chamberin the palace.

  His Majesty was seated behind a desk facing the doors. Behind him, onthe wall, was His Coat of Arms.

  He stood up and walked toward me, waving away the guards. "How are you,Mr. Booth?" he said. And offered me His Hand!

  I recovered my presence of mind, of course, and replied as was fitting.

  And then He said it! "I shall be at liberty later this week to discussmore fully the details of these past years." (Shades of "ain't got no!")"Meanwhile, my secretary will give you a complete dossier on my plannedOfficial Bulletin." He lighted a cigarette after offering me one. "Ishould deem it an honor," he continued, "to have a man of your literaryversatility and--I must add--your vast practical experience become ChiefEditor of that Bulletin. The publication, which I should enjoychristening _The Terran Beacon-Sentinel_--with your permission,sir--shall be more than my official organ. It shall set the standardsfor the coming newspaper world."

  He cocked an eyebrow at me and smiled. "I believe we are in perfectaccord about certain standards, are we not, Mr. Booth? The deplorablegrammatical practices of some newspapers! Well, really, Mr. Booth! Ifeel assured of your agreement!"

  He led me around the desk and pointed to the Coat of Arms. As He stoodsilent, I felt obliged to look more closely. I had seen it before, ofcourse, but seeing it now, greatly enlarged, I was able to make out itsdetail.

  What I had thought was a mere decorative border, I now realized was amotif I have seen all my life! A tiny lighthouse sending forth a beam!The trademark of my paper!

  As I stood there, gaping, His Majesty laughed softly and said, "That,Mr. Booth, I felt impelled to include. For, without your most fortuitoustermination of my apprenticeship in your organization, I should not haverisen to my present position."

  * * * * *

  Again He took my hand and shook it, warmly. His hair is just a bit grayat the temples, and there are signs of strain on His finely featuredface. Those awkward hands are now strong and purposeful.

  He apologized that He must return to His duties, and went with me to thedoor. "My secretary will fill in further details about your newposition. Newspapers shall once again be published. No--don't say aword, Mr. Booth! I know what you are thinking.

  "Your salary," he continued as we stood at the open door, "shall, ofcourse, be commensurate to your high authority in this new field. Allowme, now, to thank you most deeply and sincerely for your unwitting aidin my youth. I assure you, Mr. Booth, I have often thought of that daywe talked. And I hope to repay you, in some measure, for what you did."

  He said more, mostly polite phrases of good-by. And then I was outsideafter being handed a folder by some man.

  An official jetmobile took me to my residence--which turned out to be inthe East Wing. Here I am, and I don't understand. I came prepared tosuffer heaven only knows what as part of Kilmer Jones's childish patternfor revenge.

  Instead, here I am, head of the Official Bulletin, titular ruler andruler-in-fact of the future journalism of the world!

  There is something behind this--I keep feeling there is. But what? What?Or is he truly generous, to a degree never before known among absolutemonarchs?

  * * * * *

  February 13, 1 Kyleton Palace, North America

  I am a suspicious and most humble old man. I see now that Kyle'sgenerosity amazed me only because I myself would have been incapable ofsuch an action.

  Just now, I fear for His Majesty. I was right, before, when I said therewas no subtlety in the man. He is too open, too fair, too forgiving. Aruler with such greatness of heart might easily allow some smallinsignificant person in too far, too close. I fear for him!

  * * * * *

  February 14, 1 Kyleton Palace, North America

  Tomorrow we begin publication! The pressroom is magnificent! I canhardly wait. It's been a long time since I've felt such exuberance.

  This afternoon I am to conduct a conference of some eight hundrededitors! His Majesty's secretary has sent me an outline on JournalisticStandards, which I shall study after lunch.

  There was a note attached, in His Majesty's handwriting--such beautifulpenmanship, too. "A mere formality," it said, "for, of course, you and Iknow full well what the future of journalism shall be, Mr. Booth."

  * * * * *

  Later--

  How wrong can one man be in one lifetime?

  I wonder now _why_ he changed the calendar. I wonder now what poor devilhe destroyed then. But _I'll_ cheat him!

  I'll cheat him yet!

  * * * * *

  Obituary, _Trran Bacon-Sntinl_, Fbruary 16, 1

  Th unfortunat and untimly dmis of Gorg W. Booth is hrby notd with sorrowby thos who knw and lovd him.

  Mr. Booth, formr ditor and publishr of th _Bacon-Sntinl_ of Nw SanFrancisco, Dirctorat of North Amrica, had apparntly bn in poor helth forsom tim. It is blivd that worry ovr th succss of his nw policy-stting_Trran Bacon-Sntinl_ was a contributing factor in his suicid lat in thaftrnoon of Fbruary 14.

  His Most Imprial Majsty Kyl th First has ordrd a fitting monumnt to hislat lamntd frind. A simpl shaft of granit shall b rctd in th gardnfacing th Ast Wing of Kylton Palac, whr Mr. Booth mad his residnc. On thshaft shall b inscribd th lgnd:

  "How bautous mankind is! Oh brav nw world, That has much peepl in't!"

  Th quotation is from _Th Tmpst_. Mr. Booth was a grat admirr ofShakspar.

  An vn mor fitting and long-livd mmorial is xprssd in th dict rlasdthrough th offics of His Majsty on th vry day of Mr. Booth's dath. Itreeds in part:

  "Th nw linguistic policy on Trra, as dmonstratd in th _Trran Bacon-Sntinl_, shall hncforth b known as Boothtalk."

  Mr. Booth bfrindd Our Imprial Rulr in His youngr days, and, as w allknow, His Majsty nvr forgts a frind.

  --J. B. WOODLEY

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ October 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. Calendar dates remain as printed, and, based on the narrative, may be intentional.