Telempathy

exhorting everyone with an ounce of American decency in his body,to attend the Rally Under The Stars. Subliminal commands were sneakedinto the visiphone and 3-D circuits. Couples in Drive-Ins foundthemselves determined to be among those who stood up to be counted atthe Bowl. Christian Soldiers across the continent chartered all mannerof craft, from Ocelots to electromag liners, to bear them to the greatevent. Goodies by the thousand were stamped out to hawk to the faithful:Badges, banners, bumper stickers, wallet cards, purse-sized pix ofSowles, star-and-cross medallions and lapel pins.... The potentialproceeds of the Rally alone began to assume war-chest proportions.

  And above all they worked on the Speech. This had to be the greatestsockdolager since Goebbels explained Stalingrad. Cam's feverish brainhad figured out a host of effects to catalyze the audience reaction. Butin the last analysis, triumph or disaster would hinge on the oral effortof the Grim Reaper, as some of the minions at MAB had come to termSowles.

  So, Huckster Heaven became a memory, like a place in a previousexistence. Other clients were neglected; and it was even left to CurtAndrews to follow up Occidental Tobacco.

  Books were carted in, thumbed through for inspiration, and cast backinto the outer corridor in disgust.

  "Ev, catch this:

  "'The flaming light of the Lord shall go forward into the farthestreaches of this planet, to every village and commune where theAnti-Christ has ruled; and indeed it shall go beyond, with mankind'svaulting spirit, to the moon, the planets, and the stars!'"

  "Not bad," quoth the half-sodden seer, inspecting another treasure fromhis nasal passages. "My buddies say the marks will go for it likeGang-Busters."

  "Kindly refrain from the pseudo-sophisticated jazz," said Cam, in pain."One of these days your name's going to get written down in that littlebook. And besides, this _is_ an intrinsically worthwhile movement."

  "Kindly refrain yourself from the adman jargon and attempts to snow thetroops. This Sowles is the worst mountebank since Charlie Ponzi, and youknow it. You're in this for the fast megabuck same as me, so let's notkid ourselves."

  "Euramerica needs just such a unifying figure now," said Cam. "And justsuch a cause, one that will inspire positive action against the CommieComplex. Otherwise, the U. S. of E. will keep on floundering around in amorass of debate while They single-mindedly weave our doom."

  "On a single-minded loom," sang Ev into a snifter. "Who would havethought that my great gift to the world would be put to such a perverseuse right off the bat?"

  "Speaking of bat, let's get back on the ball." And the hands of theclock rolled round and round....

  * * * * *

  Two days before the Rally, an exhausted Cam tottered to the visiphonedown the hall, and dialled Sowles' Temple.

  The monkish aide answered. "Sowles' Christian Soldiers; Brother Kanehere."

  "What became of Abel?" asked Cam before his cortex could intervene. Theaide's eyes glowed with a promise of vengeance, as he put Cam through toSowles.

  "How do the preparations progress?" asked the ex-cleric.

  "Well, sir. Which is why I called. The first draft of the Speech isready."

  "I'll be there within the hour," said Sowles, and the screen blanked.

  When Sowles arrived at MAB, an Execusec conducted him to the door of the"Think-Box." He stared disapprovingly after her. "When the Soldiers holdsway, modesty will be rigidly enforced."

  Cam dictated a memo to his pocket recorder forbidding MAB girls toobserve the current abbreviated fashions.

  "Well, well; Friar Tuck," burbled Ev from his customary prone positionon the couch. "Have a toddy, and get that tired, cold bloodcirculating."

  "Revolting," said Sowles.

  "Politics make strange bed-fellows, eh, Sowles? Like you 'n' me! Andlet's not forget the Little Brown Jug! Ho, ho, ho!"

  Sowles turned to (or rather, on) Cam. "The Speech?"

  "Right. The Speech. Right here, sir." Cam tendered the manuscript.

  The Grimmest of Reapers found the most uncomfortable chair in the room,sat, and began reading. The first page was peeled off and dropped to thefloor; the second; the third; and finally, the entire effort was strewnbeside Sowles, who rose in what he undoubtedly considered righteouswrath.

  "You've missed the whole _Message!_" he hissed.

  "Sir?"

  "All this Pollyanna frou-frou is all right as frosting--but you've leftout the _cake!_"

  Cam was momentarily spooked--and not "on account of the account,"either. Sowles looked fully capable of loosing a full-fledgedInquisition, complete with rack and thumbscrew, at Cam's well-barberedhead.

  Sowles continued to fulminate. "You haven't got one word in there aboutour _enemies!_"

  "But Father, I refer several times to the Slave World and its evilrulers...."

  "Not just _Them!_ What about the traitors in our midst--the sinistercabal of pinko liberals and moderate conservatives that have underminedour defenses...."

  "I thought the Smirch Society had staked out that claim," said Cam.

  "Bah! The Smirchers are too mealy-mouthed for the needs of the hour. Ithink _they're_ a little soft on Communism. And what about the racemongrelizers?" spluttered Sowles. "Trying to subvert America with anAfro-Asian Trojan Horse!"

  "I suppose you can trace your ancestry all the way back to Caligula,"muttered Everett.

  "That's right, you human sewer! If I hadn't been assured you might be ofuse to the Cause--" He left the sentence unfinished.

  "I get the picture, Father." Cam ushered Sowles to the door. "We'll getthe new draft out right away."

  "And don't forget the economic heretics," Sowles shouted as the doorclosed on him. "The fiends that concocted the income tax, and SocialSecurity, and the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation, and...."

  "Wow," breathed Cam, when the torrent was finally cut off.

  "How do you like Galahad now?" asked Ev from the bar.

  "Build me one too," answered Cam.

  * * * * *

  Nevertheless, the revision had to be done, and done it was.

  "That'll have 'em seein' Red, all right," pronounced Everett.

  "It's got everything in it except a declaration of war on Switzerland,"said Cam ruefully.

  "Quiet--or he'll hear about that, and want it too," said Ev.

  * * * * *

  The Day of the Rally dawned bright and smoggy, but the weather boyspromised a clear, cool evening. Naturally, the major 3-D nets were allset to 'cast the "birth in the Bowl" of a potentially historic campaign.Satellites would bounce the signal over oceans and continents,throughout Euramerica, as well carrying the presentation as to alliesand unaligned nations from Tokyo to Karachi. The crusading aspect ofSowles' candidacy had been tom-tommed so well that pundits were alreadypredicting that Sowles might easily go on to the Governorship of NorthAmerica two years hence--if, indeed, his Soldiers did not sweep tocontrol of the U. S. of E. Parliament then. That, of course, wouldinstall the Grim Reaper in the Presidential Palace.... Cam shuddered andthrust the thought from his mind. But wild dreams aside, there was nodoubt that two hemispheres' attention was riveted on the big-time debutof the West Coast's Angel of Vengeance.

  En route to the Bowl, the "Soldier" theme was already manifest. Everyfew feet, a "Brother-Private" in a new, usually ill-fitting uniform wasdirecting traffic or hawking MAB-confected wares. "Father-General"Sowles appeared to have lifted more than one leaf from the SalvationArmy's book.

  Cam himself had been verbally commissioned Brother Lieutenant-Colonelwhen the revised oration had been submitted to Sowles. The Reaper ate itup this trip. "You'd have thought it came down from Sinai on tablets,"said Ev after Sowles left to begin practicing the Speech.

  "He'll make it sound that way," Cam had remarked. "Above all, Our Leaderis a great orator."

  "Translation: bloody demagogue," Ev had replied.

  Now their chauffeured air-suspension limo was tooling them up throughthe thickening
crowds to the hill-cradled amphitheater.

  Curt had come along to help. "What's going to happen to the overflow?"he asked anxiously, peering at the turgid sea of faces outside.

  "Special buses will take them to closed circuit 3-D houses," said Cam.

  "Fantastic," said Ev.

  Inside, there were just about the same number of last-minute panics andsnafus as at most 3-D spectaculars. Power for the innumerable hugecoaxial snakes was several times inadequate, which problem no one, ofcourse, had foreseen. But eventually