pockets. Ol' Mosesreally gets you going--ever listen to him talk? Well, it's just aswell. Damn, but it's hot in here--
In the rear chamber, Dan mopped his brow, popped a pill under histongue, dragged savagely on the long black cigar. "You with me, son?"
Carl nodded.
"You know what it means."
"Of course. There's your buzzer. Better get in there." Carl went backto Jean and the others around the 80-inch screen, set deep in thewall. Dan put his cigar down, gently, as though he planned to be backto smoke it again before it went out, and walked through the tall oakdoors.
* * * * *
The hubbub caught, rose up for a few moments, then dropped away. Dantook his seat, grinned across at Libby, leaned his head over to dropan aside into Parker's ear. Rinehart staring at the ceiling as thecharges are read off in a droning voice--
_--Whereas the criteria for selection of candidates for sub-totalprosthesis, first written by the Honorable Walter Rinehart of theGreat State of Alaska, have been found to be inadequate, outdated, andutterly inappropriate to the use of sub-total prosthesis that is nowpossible--_
_--And whereas that same Honorable Walter Rinehart has repeatedly usedthe criteria, not in the just, honorable, and humble way in which suchcriteria must be regarded, but rather as a tool and weapon for his ownfurtherance and for that of his friends and associates--_
Dan waited, patiently. Was Rinehart's face whiter than it had been?Was the Hall quieter now? Maybe not--but wait for the petition--
_--The Senate of the United States of North America is formallypetitioned that the Honorable Walter Rinehart should be displaced fromhis seat as Chairman in the Criterion Committee, and that his seat asChairman of that committee should be resumed by the Honorable DanielFowler, author of this petition, who has hereby pledged himself beforeGod to seek through this Committee in any and every way possible, theextention of the benefits of sub-total prosthesis techniques to allthe people of this land and not to a chosen few--_
Screams, hoots, cat-calls, applause, all from the gallery. Nonebelow--Senatorial dignity forbade, and the anti-sound glass kept thenoise out of the chamber below. Then Dan Fowler stood up, an olderDan Fowler than most of them seemed to remember. "You have heard thecharges which have been read. I stand before you now, formally, towithdraw them--"
What, what? Jaws sagging, eyes wide; teevie camera frozen on theSenator's face, then jerking wildly around the room to catch thereaction--
"You have also heard the petition which has been read. I stand beforeyou now, formally, to withdraw it--"
Slowly, measuring each word, he told them. He knew that words were notenough, but he told them. "Only 75,000 men and women have undergonethe process, at this date, out of almost two hundred million people onthis continent, yet it has already begun to sap our strength. We weretold that no change was involved, and indeed we saw no change, but itwas there, my friends. The suicides of men like Kenneth Armstrong didnot just _occur_. There are many reasons that might lead a man to takehis life in this world of ours--selfishness, self-pity, hatred of theworld or of himself, bitterness, resentment--but it was none of thesethat motivated Kenneth Armstrong. _His death was the act of abewildered, defeated mind_--for he saw what I am telling you now andknew that it was true. He saw Starships built and rebuilt, and neverlaunched--colonies dying of lethargy, because there was no longer anydrive behind them--brilliant minds losing sight of goals, and driftinginto endless inconsequential digressions--lifetimes wasted inrepetition, in re-doing and re-writing and re-living. He saw it: thedownward spiral which could only lead to death for all of us in thelast days.
"This is why I withdraw the charges and petition of this Hearing. Thisis why I reject rejuvenation, and declare that it is a monstrous thing_which we must not allow to continue_. This is why I now announce thatI personally will nominate the Honorable John Tyndall for President inthe elections next spring, and will promise him my pledged support, mypolitical organization and experience, and my every personal effort tosee that he is elected."
* * * * *
It seemed that there would be no end to it, when Dan Fowler hadfinished. 'Moses' Tyndall had sat staring as the blood drained out ofhis sallow face; his jaw gaped, and he half-rose from his chair, thensank back with a ragged cough, staring at the Senator as if he hadbeen transformed into a snake. Carl and Terry were beside Dan in amoment, clearing a way back to the rear chambers, then down the stepsof the building to a cab. Senator Libby intercepted them there, hisface purple with rage, and McKenzie, bristling and indignant. "You'velost your mind, Dan."
"I have not. I am perfectly sane."
"But _Tyndall_! He'll turn Washington into a grand revival meeting,he'll--"
"Then we'll cut him down to size. He's _my_ candidate, remember, nothis own. He'll play my game if it pays him well enough. But I want anAbolitionist administration, and I'm going to get one."
In the cab he stared glumly out the window, his heart racing, hiswhole body shaking in reaction now. "You know what it means," he saidto Carl for the tenth time.
"Yes, Dan, I know."
"It means no rejuvenation, for you or for any of us. It means provingsomething; to people that they just don't want to believe, andcramming it down their throats if we have to. It means taking awaytheir right to keep on living."
"I know all that."
"Carl, if you want out--"
"Yesterday was the time."
"Okay then. We've got work to do."
IX
Up in the offices again, Dan was on the phone immediately. He knewpolitics, and people--like the jungle cat knows the whimperingcreatures he stalks. He knew that it was the first impact, the firstjolting blow that would win for them, or lose for them. Everything hadto hit right. He had spent his life working with people, buildingfriends, building power, banking his resources, investing himself. Nowthe time had come to cash in.
Carl and Jean and the others worked with him--a dreadful afternoon andevening, fighting off newsmen, blocking phone calls, trying toconcentrate in the midst of bedlam. The campaign to elect Tyndall hadto start _now_. They labored to record a work-schedule, listing names,outlining telegrams, drinking coffee, as Dan swore at his dead cigarlike old times once again, and grinned like a madman as the plansslowly developed and blossomed out.
Then the phone jangled, and Dan reached out for it. It was that lastsmall effort that did it. A sledge-hammer blow, from deep within him,sharp agonizing pain, a driving hunger for the air that he justcouldn't drag into his lungs. He let out a small, sharp cry, anddoubled over with pain. They found him seconds later, still clingingto the phone, his breath so faint as to be no breath at all.
* * * * *
He regained consciousness hours later. He stared about him at thestraight lines of the ceiling, at the hospital bed and the hospitalwindow. Dimly he saw Carl Golden, head dropping on his chest, dozingat the side of the bed.
There was a hissing sound, and he raised a hand, felt the tiny oxygenmask over his mouth and nose. But even with that help, every breathwas an agony of pain and weariness.
He was so very tired. But slowly, through the fog, he remembered. Coldsweat broke out on his forehead, drenched his body. _He was alive._Yet he remembered crystal clear the thought that had exploded in hismind in the instant the blow had come. _I'm dying. This is theend--it's too late now._ And then, cruelly, _why did I wait so long?_
He struggled against the mask, sat bolt upright in bed. "I'm going todie," he whispered, then caught his breath. Carl sat up, smiled athim.
"Lie back, Dan. Get some rest."
Had he heard? Had Carl heard the fear he had whispered? Perhaps not.He lay back, panting, as Carl watched. Do you know what I'm thinking,Carl? I'm thinking how much I want to live. People don't _need_ todie--wasn't that what Dr. Moss had said? It's such a terrible waste,he had said.
Too late, now. Dan's hands trembled. He remembered the Senators in theova
l hall, hearing him speak his brave words; he remembered Rinehart'sface, and Tyndall's, and Libby's. He was committed now. Yesterday, no.Now, yes.
Paul had been right, and Dan had proved it.
His eyes moved across to the bedside table. A telephone. He was stillalive, Moss had said that sometimes it was possible _even when youwere dying_. That was what they did with your father, wasn't it, Carl?Brave Peter Golden, who had fought Rinehart so hard, who had beggedand pleaded for universal rejuvenation, waited and watched and finallycaught Rinehart red-handed, to prove that he was corrupting the lawand expose him. Simple, honest Peter Golden, applying so naively forhis rightful place on the list, when his cancer was diagnosed. PeterGolden had been all but dead when he had finally whispered defeat, andgiven Rinehart his perpetual silence in return
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