“But we do have to suffer, people of Orphalese.” His expression became grim. “Our beloved founder, Guy, who’s sitting there doing a little extra suffering now, was favored enough to understand these things in the very beginning, when he himself was seized by these imps. And it is all in this book! Like it says, ‘Your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.’ Ponder on that, people of Orphalese—and friends. No, I mean really ponder,” he explained, glancing at the bound “friends” on the platform. “We always do that for a minute. Ada there will play us some music so we can ponder.”
Chandler shifted uncomfortably, while an old woman crippled by arthritis began fumbling a tune out of an electric organ. The burn Ellen Braisted had given him was beginning to hurt badly. If only these people were not such obvious nuts, he thought, he would feel a lot better about casting his lot in with them. But maybe it took lunatics to do the job. Sane people hadn’t accomplished much.
And anyway he had very little choice. …
“Ada, that’s enough,” ordered the fat youth. “Meg, come on up here. People of Orphalese, now you can listen again while Meg explains to the new folks how all this got started, seeing Guy’s in no condition to do it.”
The teenager marched up to the platform and took the parade-rest position learned in some high-school debating society—in the days when there were debating societies and high schools. “Ladies and gentlemen, well, let’s start at the beginning. Guy tells this better’n I do, of course, but I guess I remember it all pretty well too. I ought to. I was in on it and all.” She grimaced and said, “Well, anyway, ladies and gentlemen—people of Orph’lese—the way Guy organized this Orphalese self-protection society was, like Walter says, he was possessed. The only difference between Guy and you and me was that he knew what to do about it, because he read the book, you see. Not that that helped him at first, when he was took over. He was really seized. Yes, people of Orph’lese, he was taken and while his whole soul and brain and body was under the influence of some foul wanderer fiend from hell he did things that, ladies and gentlemen of Orph’lese, I wouldn’t want to tell you. He was a harp in the hand of the mighty, as it says. Couldn’t help it, not however much he tried. Only while he was doing—the things—he happened to catch his hand in a gas flame and, well, you can see it was pretty bad.” With a deprecatory smile Guy held up a twisted hand. “And, do you know, he was free of his imp right then and there! Now, Guy is a scientist, people of Orph’lese, he worked for the telephone company, and he not only had that training in the company school but he had read the book, you see, and he put two and two together. Oh, and he’s my uncle, of course. I’m proud of him. I’ve always loved him, and even when he—when he was not one with himself, you know, when he was doing those terrible things to me, I knew it wasn’t Uncle Guy that was doing them, but something else. I didn’t know what, though. And when he told me he had figured out the Basic Rule, I went along with him every bit. I knew Guy wasn’t wrong, and what he said was from Scripture. Imps fear pain! So we got to love it. That one I know by heart, all right: ‘Could you keep your heart from wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy.’ That’s what it says, right? So that’s why we got to hurt ourselves, people of Orph’lese—and new brothers—because the wanderers don’t like it when we hurt and they leave us alone. Simple’s that.
“Well—” the girl’s face stiffened momentarily—“I knew I wasn’t going to be seized. So Guy and I got Else, that’s the other girl he’d been doing things to, and we knew she wasn’t going to be taken either. Not if the imps feared pain like Guy said, because,” she said solemnly, “I want to tell you Guy hurt us pretty bad.
“And then we came out here, and found this place, and ever since then we’ve been adding brothers and sisters. It’s been slow, of course, because not many people come this way any more, and we’ve had to kill a lot. Yes, we have. Sometimes the possessed just can’t be saved, but—”
Abruptly her face changed.
Suddenly alert, her face years older, she glanced around the room. Then she relaxed. …
And screamed.
Guy leaped up. Hoarsely, his voice almost inarticulate as he tried to talk with his broken jaw, he cried, “Wha … Wha’s … matter, Meg?
“Uncle Guy!” she wailed. She plunged off the platform and flung herself into his arms, crying hysterically.
“Wha?”
She sobbed, “I could feel it! They took me. Guy, you promised me they couldn’t!”
He shook his head, dazed, staring at her as though she were indeed possessed—still possessed, and telling him some fearful great lie to destroy his hopes. He seemed unable to comprehend what she had said. One of the hunters bellowed in stark fear: “For God’s sake, untie us! Give us a chance, anyway!” Chandler yelled agreement. In one split second everyone in the room had been transmuted by terror into something less than human. No one seemed capable of any action. Slowly the plump youth who had presided moved over to the hunter bound in the dentist’s chair and began to fumble blindly at the knots. Ellen Braisted dropped her head into her hands and began to shake.
The cruelty of the moment was that they had all tasted hope. Chandler writhed wildly against his ropes, his mind racing out of control.
