Business is booming. Everybody’s happy.”
Fontaine’s baleful glare hadn’t let up an iota.
“But he’s spreading that confounded blasted subversive message of his to every man, woman and child who can get to a TV or radio set.”
“That was the deal,” Ed said reasonably. “Dwight Hopkins had his work cut out getting everyone to agree. But it was the only way to call off the crisis.”
Jensen Fontaine pounded a scrawny hand on the desk. “You still don’t understand,” he cried. He pointed dramatically to a pile of mailbags stacked in one corner. “Letters. Letters from every country on earth. It’s bad enough that this ultra-radical spews out his underground…”
“Hardly underground,” Ed murmered.
“…subversion in English, but they translate it in every country in the world.”
“Part of the agreement,” Ed said reasonably. He looked at the mail sacks appreciatively. “The fan mail continues to grow, eh? Holy smokes, what a rating.”
Fontaine looked as though he were about to blow a gasket. “Is it impossible to get through to you, Ed Wonder! Don’t you realize what that idiot Dwight Hopkins and those Communists down in Greater Washington have done in making that agreement with Tubber?”
Ed’s eyebrows went up. “I thought I did,” he said. “They’ve given my father-in-law the chance to put his message on the air.”
“Yes! But didn’t they consider the possible results?”
Ed looked at him questioningly.
The station owner dramatically pointed to the mail sacks. “Those letters are running ten to one in favor of Tubber’s program. Don’t you understand? They’re beginning to
“Holy smokes,” Ed said.
“Have you seen the public opinion polls? People are beginning to follow this… this… madman. At the rate we’re going, by next election he could vote in this Elysium nonsense of his!”
“Holy smokes,” Ed said.
