first. He could sell it to
His mind shifted back into low. No, he couldn’t. If Buzzo couldn’t even approach his city editor in a one horse town like Kingsburg, who was going to listen to Ed Wonder in Ultra-New York?
He suspected that of all those involved, the only ones who really knew that the Homespun Look and the disruption of both TV and radio were the results of curses by Tubber, were himself, Buzz and Helen. Except, of course, for Tubber himself, Nefertiti and some of the followers of the word, or whatever they called themselves.
Buzz said impatiently, “Well?”
Where he got the courage, Ed didn’t know, but he said, “Okay. I’ll go on up to Saugerties for whatever it’s worth. I’ll keep you posted. Remember, if this pays off, I’m in on the loot.”
The reporter rolled his eyes upward as though making solemn promise. “De Kemp always keeps faith,” he intoned.
“Yeah, sure,” Ed growled, reaching his hand out to switch off the phone.
Ed took the elevator down to the cellar garage and got the Volkshover, keyed it to life, lifted it half a foot from the floor, drifted up the ramp to the street, and headed north. The streets were more crowded than ever. He had never realized just how many persons lived in this city. In the far past, he supposed, the majority had spent the day hours working, the evening watching TV, listening to the radio, or taking in a movie. Of recent years, as the number of jobs decreased, until finally the employment rolls included a far greater number of citizens than did employment lists, the average citizen led a more sedentary existence. He had seen somewhere estimates that Mr. Average Man spent eight hours a day being entertained by mass media.
Well, a wheel had come off now.
He headed north at an altitude of about ten feet, and noticed that traffic was heavier than was to be expected at this time of day. It didn’t take long to figure out why. City dwellers on their way to the nearest water for a swim, or to the nearest woods for a picnic. Largely, their faces didn’t indicate that they were expecting any great treat. Probably because their portables weren’t working.
It came to Ed Wonder that such entertainment of yesteryear as swimming and picnicking had fallen off since he’d been a kid. In his day, youngsters still got a kick out of self-entertainment, swimming, baseball, fishing, hiking, camping. Now such exercise had a tendency to be avoided because it interfered with listening in on this favorite program or that. Go out on a camping trip and you might miss
Fishing. He remembered going fishing with his father as a kid. And by himself, for that matter. He might wind up with nothing at all, or maybe a meager string of sunfish, but he’d thought it fun. Today, a kid got more of a boot out of watching somebody in the Gulf Stream or off the coast of Peru catching a half-ton marlin, or spearing a giant ray skin diving off the Great Barrier Reef of Australia. The vicarious thrill of playing a ten foot man-eating shark was evidently considerably more than tediously waiting for a four-inch sunfish to take your worm.
Saugerties was one of those never-changing New England type towns. Largely wooden houses. One storey, two storey, seldom more than three, even downtown. The type of overgrown
Ed Wonder let his little hovercar drift to a halt before the Thornton Memorial Theatre, which like the movie houses of his own town, had a long line before it. Near the curb stood three or four disgruntled citizens who had obviously decided that the line was so long it was hopeless to expect to gain entry.
Ed called, “Hey, Buddy, could you tell me where, ah, the Reverend Tubber has his tent set up?”
“Never heard of him,” Buddy said.
“How about you, Mac?” Ed said.
Mac screwed up his face. “You know, I did see something in the paper about some revival tent meeting or something. Hey, you know what? That’s something we could do. We could take in this here new revival.”
“Geez,” Buddy said, as though in hope. “You know what? I think I’ll get on home and round up the old lady and the kids and get over there before all the seats is taken.”
Ed said patiently, “Could you tell me where they’re set up?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mac said, evidently caught up with Buddy’s idea, and ready to take off himself. “Down there about three blocks, then turn right and keep going until you wind up at the park. You can’t miss it.” He said that final ritual over his shoulder as he hurried off.
Ed drove three down and then to the left and eventually came to the park. Buddy and Mac were going to be disappointed. There was already a long line standing before the Tubber tent. It was still early afternoon, but the line was there.
“Standing room only,” Ed muttered, hitting the drop lever. He wondered if Tubber was having a matinee. He parked and strode over to the entrance.
“Get in line, Jack. Take your turn,” somebody growled at him. Faces took him in antagonistically.
Ed said, hurriedly, “I’m not here to listen to the, ah, sermon. I…”
“Sure, sure, we know, sharpy. Just get in line, is all. I been standing here two hours. You try to sneak ahead of me and you get a bust in the puss, unnerstan?”
Ed felt his usual stomach tighening at the threat of physical violence and took a double step backward. He looked disconcerted at the three or four of the Tubber followers who were doing their harried best to keep order.
“The Speaker of the Word will be heard by all,” one was saying, over and over again. “He is shortening his talks to half an hour so that everyone may have a chance to listen, in relays. Please be patient. The Speaker of the Word will be heard by all.”
One of those in line grumbled, “Half an hour. You mean I been standing here all this time just for half an hour’s show?”
Ed Wonder said, “It’s not exactly a show, pal.” He walked away from the line. Trying to get in the front entrance would have taken hours. Besides, it was no manner in which to consult Tubber. He was going to have to confront the prophet, if that was what you’d call him, face to face. He was liking the prospect less by the minute.
He walked around to the rear of the large tent and found that, as before, there was a smaller tent pitched behind it. Ed Wonder hesitated. He drifted around behind the canvas habitation. There was an old-fashioned farm wagon there and a horse quietly grazing.
He took a breath consciously, and returned to the entrance. How do you knock on the door of a tent?
He cleared his throat and called out, “Anybody home?”
He could hear a stirring inside and then the flap separated and Nefertiti Tubber was there.
She looked at him and flushed. “Good afternoon, dear one,” she said. Then, in a gush, “Oh, Ed, I’m sorry about the other night. I—I should have known better than to let father…”
“Sorry,” he said bitterly. “So’s the whole world. Listen, do you know what’s happened?” She nodded dumbly. “I’ll tell you what’s happened,” he began.
She looked quickly around them, then held back the tent flap. “Please come in, Ed.”
He followed her. The rent was surprisingly large and laid out comfortably into three rooms, two of which had flapped entries of their own. The equivalent of bedrooms, Ed decided. The larger space was a combination kitchen, living and dining room, and even went to the extent of a rug being on the ground. A rag rug, homemade, of the type that Ed Wonder hadn’t seen since early childhood.
There were folding chairs about the table and Nefertiti hesitantly gestured to one of them. Ed sat down and looked at her. The fact that Ezekiel Joshua Tubber himself wasn’t present gave him courage.
He said accusingly, “Every TV and radio station in the world is on the blink.”
She nodded. “I just found out an hour or so ago. I went into town for some supplies from a follower of the path who resides not in Elysium.”
Ed let that part of her statement that sounded like straight kookery go by and stuck to the first sentence. “Did you see all those people in the streets?”
