Telempathy, Page 4

all the crises had had their momentand were coped with--and suddenly it was almost air time.

  Cam, Curt, and Ev repaired to the control booth and found an area wherethey wouldn't be under the technicians' feet. (Cam had decreed a tripleplatoon system on this one: a fresh director and crew were alternated inevery fifteen minutes.) Ev produced a flask, which Cam and Curtdeclined; but the super-mongoose took a few greedy licks at the cap.

  "A lush _Gestalt_ yet," muttered Curt.

  "Don't insult the folks that put you in silk, sonny," advised Ev.

  "Tell me about the others now," said Cam. "Everything's out of our handsanyhow."

  * * * * *

  Ev breathed deeply. "Okay, I'll tell you a wee bit. One of us is aPathan valet in Bombay--which would cut up the Reaper worse than thefictitious _entente_ with the squid. And the Pathan must have a fewdrops of Irish blood and, ergo, second sight--he contributes enormouslyto the acuity of our insight into potential human reaction."

  "Mmmm. And?"

  "My small friend here, the super-mongoose, is the amplifier. Some goofynew gland, I suppose--or as you guessed, a mutational development. Inthat tiny _corpus_, however it came about, is an organ that enables usto communicate on an elemental level among ourselves without regard tomileage; and to probe psyches anywhere in the world--as many as we want.Actually, we have to keep his output at a fraction of capacity, or elseget swamped in a tidal wave of emotion."

  "That accounts for three. But you indicated there were four," said Cam.

  "No, I never! But you're right. There is a fourth. Twelve years old; IQabout 180. Never even leaves his room. But his mind--and his psifaculties--have seven-league boots. He runs our team."

  "Where does he live?"

  "High on a windy hill. He, he, he!" Ev hit the flask as a trout the fly,and an engineer glared. The gradually rising stage lights signalled theZero Second in a symphony of changing color.

  First, the cross-and-star symbol grew from a tiny point on the stageuntil it became a living pillar of luminosity that seemed to dwarf thenight.

  Then came the distant music of fife and drum, augmented by cornet:"Yankee Doodle;" and in the traditional Revolutionary regalia, themusical minute-men led a parade down the aisles of the Choral Guard.They segued to "Onward Christian Soldiers" as they marched past themesmerized audience, up to and onto the stage; and topped off the medleywith "The Battle Hymn of The Republic." It was only great.

  "The folks are already on the ropes," said Ev.

  "Where does he live?" asked Cam.

  A Brother-Major came forward and led the Choral Guard and audience in aresponsive psalm that emphasized the smiting of enemies. With the"Amen," the cameras panned with the audience's eyes up to the pregnantnight sky. You could hear an option drop.

  Then the Guard did some fancy quick-step singing on stage: "God BlessAmerica"; "Over there"; and "The Soldiers Are Coming", to the tune of"The Campbells Are Coming", complete with bagpipe brigade.

  Next, a rather hard-featured Sister Captain told how the growing army ofthe Lord needed support. The Offertory was handled by Brother N.C.O.'swhile super-imposed 3-D slides told the brethren at home exactly how toget their bux to Sowles. Meanwhile a battery of organs swept through the"_Marseillaise_", "Land Of Hope And Glory", and other U. S. of E. songs.Finally, a Guard contralto came forward and got the whole crowd on itsfeet to join her in singing "The Star Spangled Banner."

  "They're limp as old wet-wash," said Ev.

  * * * * *

  Now the Bowl went dark except for the pale light of the moon and stars.Minutes passed. Eventually, a spotlight picked out Sowles standingalone, quietly, meditatively, at Stage Right. He looked as thoughwondering if it was all right to come out. The audience went wild. Camreflected that it probably would have, even without the claques he hadplanted. As it was, had the Bowl had a roof, it would have been blastedoff.

  "We're picking up reactions like mad," said Ev.

  "The U. S. of E. audience alone will hit at least 200 million," saidCam.

  "All thinking--I should say feeling--like one great docile beast."

  "Where does he live?" Cam asked again.

  "Tibet," blurted Ev unthinkingly; then he turned and glared at Cam as hemight at a tarantula in his daiquiri.

  But Sowles had begun to speak. A huge rear-projection screen behind himvisualized each thought uttered. He started with the theme of the West:how logical that a great new crusade should be born here where men ofthe cloth had first blazed Western civilization's trails; Berkeley wasquoted about the Westward Star of Empire; this was the shore sought bythe most valiant of the westering tide of pioneers; etc., etc. Meanwhilethe 3-D living mural milked Western scenery to a fare-thee-well. Gauntfishermen stared out over Puget Sound, and Big Sur underlined theconcept of rugged strength. Mount McKinley and Mazatlan passed inreview.

  Then Sowles got down to business. This vital young giant--the West--wasnot going to let the effete pestholes of the East (by this he meant allthe way East, including Stockholm, Athens, and Kashmir) forfeit theCaucasian heritage with their decadent goings-on. The Commie Complex wasnot going to be handed the rest of the planet on a silver platterbecause of Euramerican "marshmallow moral fiber."

  He proceeded to the list of Hates: Welfare Statism; tyranny by tax("Remember the Boston Tea Party!"); loose divorce laws; fraternallodges; "promiscuous enfranchisement"; water fluoridation; and so on.These were but a few of the cancers, he screamed, that must beruthlessly excised from the body politic so that a lean, cleanEuramerica might face the Arch-Enemy on reasonably even terms.

  "They're frothing at the mouth," said Ev.

  Now Sowles really tore the rag off the bush. He described the GodlessAtheists that held half the world in thrall. He rehearsed again thebutchery of the kulaks and the kangaroo courts of Cuba. He showed theMongol tanks rumbling into Budapest and the pinched-face terror of theEast German refugees; the "human sea" charges in Korea and the flight ofthe Dalai Lama.

  Suddenly Cam was struck by a wild surmise.

  "Number Four--he's the Panchen Lama, isn't he?" Cam knew that thecurrent Red puppet high priest was about twelve.

  "You win the cigar," said Ev.

  Cam made up his mind quickly. "Ev, listen to me and do exactly as I say.This is crucial."

  "What?"

  "Turn up the gain on the mongoose."

  "What for? It's all I can stand right now!"

  "Never mind. Turn it up."

  "You're the account exec."

  * * * * *

  Now Sowles began telling in hushed whispers how it would be under theReds. The huge mural became a panorama of rapine. Commie soldiers sackedEuramerican cities and hamlets. Girls were dragged off for the pleasureof drunken battalions. Barbarian guffaws rang out as homes and storeswere pillaged and put to the torch.

  "Ourch!" gritted Ev. "All this hate...."

  "Have another snort and turn up the gain."

  The crowd began to low like a cow in labor. Sowles swung into theclimax: A series of questions shouted to the audience....

  "Would you work night and day to crush this menace to your homes, yourfamily, your country, your _God?_"

  "_YES!_" The hills rang with the full-throated bellow.

  "Would you fight, and if need be, die, to save our civilization and slaythe Commie monsters in their lairs?"

  "_YES!_"

  Cam thought he could even hear answering shouts from outside the Bowl."Turn up the gain again."

  "Will you place in the hands of your servants, the Christian Soldiers,all powers necessary to crush the barbarian tide?" This last was fairlyscreamed. Sowles was draped across the podium, arms outstretched to theaudience.

  "YES! YES! YES!" thundered the reverberating response.

  Fife, drum, and cornet struck up "Onward" very softly.

  "_Will you follow me to the_ ends of the earth--to the very gates of RedHell itself--destroying every obstacle
in our path--until theAnti-Christ has been annihilated root and branch, and we have come intoour Kingdom? _Will you follow ME??!_"

  Pandemonium. The crowd surged into the aisles, falling in with theChoral Guard, singing, shouting, weeping.

  "He hit high C," said Ev.

  "Full gain," said Cam.

  Ev gulped more skull-buster and stroked the "amplifier" in the region ofthe pancreas.

  Sowles' arms were uplifted, and one of Cam's clever little effectshaloed his flying locks.

  "KILL THE REDS!" he shrilled.

  "Kill ... REDS ... KILL ... REDS ..." chanted the