His hands were apparently sweating. He took out his natty handkerchief and wiped them convulsively. He did not replace the piece of linen; he kept it in his hands and twisted it in the revealing gesture of panic.
“Labor has been dignified as never before in the history of our country. I might even say that Labor rules us, and Labor’s welfare and Labor’s necessities. Until the advent of The Democracy, Labor occupied the meanest stratum in our national existence. Labor made our State; Labor supports our State. Labor will lead us to even higher peaks. Labor crushed reaction, and is responsible for us.”
His voice trailed away. He stared from the screen in impotent fear. It was some moments before he could speak again. He seemed to be feeling the enormous hatred and shame and rage he was exciting in the hearts of millions, and it terrified him.
“You made this Government, my dear friends. You made me your leader. Because you wished a State more in accordance with your desires and your dreams. Together, we abolished the old Constitution, which we had decided inhibited us all. I salute you, every man and woman of Labor, and all others who have made this nation what it is.”
He gulped. His eyes darted as if in pleading challenge.
The soldiers outside were singing and laughing. The flag soared over them in glorious pride, flung its stars at the higher stars, spread its brilliant stripes under the moon.
“It has been brought to my attention,” squealed the President, “that the people are so enthusiastic over this Day which has been dedicated to them, that they are standing in all the cities, as if reluctant to let the Day end. I wish, dear friends, that I could be standing with you tonight, enjoying your victory and your happiness. But, there is a war on! There is a job to be done! Essential industry must not be stopped even for a moment, even for a prolonged celebration of Democracy Day! There are millions of you due at this very minute, in your own war plants, your railroad yards, your electrical factories, your many other areas of war effort. There are other millions who will not be recalled to duty until six o’clock in the morning. I know that all of you, after my humble address to you, will return to your homes for well-deserved rest, or to your battle stations.
“An intimate advisor has told me that you insist that I speak to you now, and that you are waiting to hear me, otherwise I should not be taking up your time which is so valuable to our war effort. I am touched, dear friends, by your devotion. But I am also alarmed by some treacherous rumors which have come to my ears tonight, rumors issued by mongers of hate and disruption and lies. These very few enemies of The Democracy have been issuing falsehoods to our various broadcasting stations. In your name, therefore, I shall demand that more rigorous censorship prevail after tonight so that you’ll never again be diverted from your labors in the common cause by any falsehoods and confusion, by any attempts on our national unity.
“Sabotage! Rebellion! Disobedience! Revolt of a large section of our wonderful Armed Forces! Revolt of the farmers, the workers, the leaders of industry! This is what you have been hearing for the past few hours. Believe me, dear friends, they are lies. Never has the nation been so united. Are you incredulous at these reports of the enemies of The Democracy? I am not incredulous, for I know how the Enemy works, and what he wishes to do. He wishes to make you slaves of selfish interests and reactionary government again! He wishes to deprive you of your liberties and your national honor. But we shall not permit this! We shall be firm and strong, one together under one flag!”
The President’s wizened face turned scarlet on the screen, and drops burst out on his forehead. Someone handed him a glass, and he gulped it. It had a suspiciously amber color. Then a hand thrust a paper at him and he took it eagerly. His face lighted up with jubilation.
“Friends! I have just been handed a message by the Secretary of Protection! Our brave troops have just announced that the flag of The Democracy now stands everywhere on the spine of the Andes Mountains! We have not yet completely conquered all the nations of South America, but I prophesy that within a few months our enemies on that continent will beg for peace. Your sons have done this, my friends! They have given their blood and their lives in order that we, their parents and their wives and their children, will enjoy everlasting peace in this world, everlasting progress and civilization and prosperity. We shall soon have at our complete disposal the nitrates and copper of Chile, the rich fruits and rubber of Brazil, the raw materials and industrial organizations of Argentina, the minerals of Peru, and the willing laboring hands of millions of oppressed South American citizens! Rejoice with me in this triumph, or, rather, let me rejoice with you, for you have made this possible!
“And now, dear sisters and brothers, return to your homes and to your plants, which are your battle stations. Do not let the enemies of national unity disturb you, or beguile you into passive resistance to your country. Do not listen to them; it is treason to yourselves. Our enemies are very few, and we feel that the country and all its protective organizations are disciplined enough to overcome any emergency. We know who the enemy is. We shall keep our eyes upon them and before long, with your help, and the help of your Bureaus, they will be rounded up and dealt with according to their crimes.”
He had become hypnotized by his own voice, which had a stronger note and a less hysterical one. He could grin more naturally, now. He lifted his hand and shouted: “Unity! Duty! Sacrifice!”
Music clashed, the President’s face faded, and the flag of The Democracy sailed into view. The strains of the national anthem roared from the screen.
Mr. Regis and his friends laughed aloud. But Dr. Healy was very serious and excited. “I’ve just discovered something,” he said, looking at them eagerly. “Slocum isn’t an evil man. He’s just a fool. Of course, fools are more dangerous than bad men, but fools can be frightened in a pinch. Evil men can’t be frightened, because evil is their nature.”
He asked: “Mr. Regis, what tinge of political faith will the new Republic wear? A little of Fascism, or of Communism, or a touch of Socialism?”
Mr. Regis regarded him with sad surprise. “You are quite a young man, aren’t you, Doctor? That is the tragedy, that all the millions of your contemporaries, and millions younger, have never known what it is to live under a free system of government. There must always be an ‘ism,’ with you. You don’t know any better, so you can’t be blamed. But let me tell you this: there will just be the old American Government, under the restored Constitution.”
The dim screen billowed with light again, and there was another commentator, shouting: “The President has delivered his most moving speech tonight, to the People. But the People are not returning to their ‘battle areas,’ as the President called them. They are just quietly going home! The factories and the plants remain empty. The streets are emptying. The houses are dark. The People, to make it short are just doing nothing!
“But it’s another story about Section 1 and 6. The two heroic commanders of these Sections are rumored to have invaded their neighboring disloyal Sections tonight in order to put down the rumored insurrections of the Armed Forces and to restore order among the people. It is rumored that both of these loyal commanders have just been murdered, and by their own officers! The troops, after a bloody sortie or two, are retreating behind the borders of Sections 1 and 6. It is only a rumor that thousands of them have joined the mutinous ranks of their neighbors! As the President has said, all this is only rumor, fabricated to confuse and frighten the people. Only rumor, friends!”
Another face appeared, looking shocked and incredulous, but the eyes danced. “It is rumored that three members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff have fled Washington, including five Bureau heads. If this is so, it is possible that they are merely gathering for consultation about the floods of rumors—”
The voice paused, then shouted: “The streets of Washington are full of official cars leaving the city! Their headlights are not on. Where are these cars going, at one o’clock in the morning? For ‘consultations’? Why are no Picked
Guards with them, or other escorts? Why is the White House blacked out, as if expecting an air raid? Why are no lights shining on the Capitol? It’s rumored that hundreds of Senators are fleeing the city, too. But where will they go?”
The voice stopped. The young man’s face on the screen became dark and somber. The eyes looked out sternly. “Yes, where will they go? Back to their native Sections? Back to the rumored insurrection of the populace? Dare they go back? Where will they go, these men Where will they hide?”
Yes, thought Durant, grimly, where will they hide, these traitors and liars, these murderers and oppressors of the people? Where can evil ever hide, that it can never be found?
The face was replaced by another. “Such rumors! It is said that the old flag of the Republic is appearing everywhere, paper flags furtively pasted onto shop windows, on doors, on telegraph poles. Crudely handpainted flags! If this is so, how long have the people been preparing these legs. Who directed them? Who is controlling them, now, so that they are not attacking public buildings or blowing up war plants tonight and other key industries? Who ordered them to turn quietly to their homes, and wait there? Wait for what? If this is revolution, then never was a revolution so disciplined, and so without bloodshed. Unless, of course, it is just a rumor!”
The screen abruptly dimmed.
“There will be more, all night, all day tomorrow,” said Mr. Regis. “I won’t go to bed. If any of you, however, wish to sleep, you are at liberty to return to your bedrooms.”
But it was impossible for anyone to think of sleep, or any kind of rest. When the screen was blank, they talked with excitement, or were soberly quiet, thinking. More news came at intervals, all prefaced by the exhortation to remember that it was only “rumor.” Durant, watching the smiling, vehement or mercurial faces of the various young commentators, marveled at the silent and patient work which must have been done by anonymous Minute Men over the past year or two. There had been no violent or explosive “seizing of public communications,” which had marked changes of government in other countries. The Minute Men were simply there, infiltrated in the broadcasting stations, waiting for their own particular signals. When they had arrived, they had moved into action, with no hindrance, no bloodshed, no spectacular gestures, giving the people news of their fellows in all the other Sections, and, by their smiles, the pursings of their lips, the glancing of their eyes, inciting the emotions of their listeners. As they spoke in the name of the State, and were deferential when they mentioned the President, and repeated that all was rumor, no effort could be made to silence them.
Thinking of this, Durant went to Lieutenant Grandon, and said: “You weren’t a Minute Man, George. What did you think you could do by entering the Armed Forces?”
“Stir up disaffection, sir,” replied the young man, smiling. “Do you remember all those parties I used to attend? Most of them were parties for officers like myself, and I just talked. Very subtle, if I admit it, myself. And then there were thousands of young fellows who were only drafted or enlisted, and they were Minute Men, right in there, working. That’s how it happened that we now have over fifty percent of all the troops. Nobody knew what anyone else was doing. It only mattered that it was being done.” He inclined his head courteously at Durant. “But, of course, things couldn’t have moved with such order and precision without the Minute Men, and with such a chance of succeeding.”
He was sitting beside his uncle, and Mr. Burgess looked at him affectionately. “I thought I was the only one in the family left alive,” he said. “No, don’t ask me how I got to my present position. It’s too long a story. The country is so full of stories that writers will have material for at least a century.”
The screen brightened for another face. It was “rumored” that all commanding officers of all the Sections had “deserted” their posts! They were nowhere to be found. Their men were in a state of “anarchy,” abandoned by those who should be guiding them and protecting The Democracy. In Chicago, the people had not been able to contain themselves. They had been armed with many weapons, and they had attacked the military barracks in that city. Before they had been “calmed,” over two hundred soldiers had been killed, but less than fifty civilians. The people had then taken over the barracks and the soldiers were fraternizing with them.
“You see,” said Mr. Regis, “you had forgotten the fanatics and those who were convinced of the righteousness of The Democracy. You had forgotten that those soldiers who were killed had been simple military youths whose minds had been so regimented that they had no thoughts of their own. This will happen everywhere before the end.”
More and more reports flooded in. The food warehouses in all the cities and towns and villages had been attacked by the populace, which, however, had not been disorderly. They were being “led.” The food had been distributed by men and women evidently trained for this contingency. Trucks, confiscated from the Military, had been expertly and completely loaded, and carted off for further distribution.
The Armed Forces, at dawn, were offering only “token resistance,” under their immediate officers. At dawn, the people were not returning to their “battle stations” in industry, though a competent skeleton force of workers was operating essential utilities, and trucks, loaded with milk, were entering the cities. In New York, hundreds of men, wearing white armbands, were directing operations and maintaining order. The white armbands were also appearing in great numbers in the other large cities throughout the nation. Banners were mysteriously being produced, banners made in secret and bearing the Stars and Stripes of the Republic. City halls everywhere were flying them. The flags of The Democracy were being burned openly on the streets amid general rejoicing. However, here and there, civil war had broken out among the troops in all Sections, and there had been some bloody fighting. But the people had surged to the assistance of the mutineers, and the others were quickly overcome.
In Cleveland, a detachment of troops had invaded many homes and had dragged out men and women who refused to return to “essential industry.” In full sight of their families, these victims had been shot, in an attempt to intimidate others. But the people had rushed from their homes and had murdered the murderers, and had retrieved their dead and wounded. “As of this hour,” said the commentator, “Cleveland is quiet.”
“The courage of the people,” said Karl Schaeffer. “At the last, tyrants always have to reckon with that.”
The reports came in faster and faster, of similar incidents. But the people were holding together, in the face of threats, in the face of death. They had been assured of their own might; they were confident of their strength and they knew what they did not wish to do they could not be compelled to do. It had taken them decades of suffering to learn that simple and inexorable fact. It has always taken them decades, and even centuries, to learn it, thought Durant. A people need never accept tyranny or oppression. If they accept it, they are guilty of their own death. A people always deserve their government.
Farms were being taken over by the conscripted labor, in disciplined fashion. Where there was no resistance, no attempt at intimidation, there were no bloody incidents. The people moved to take their government, in their strength and their power, and nothing could withstand them, neither fanatic nor zealot, neither evil men nor force. A mass of over two hundred million people was integrated as one.
At seven o’clock a huge helicopter descended with slow majesty on the grounds near the house, and a young man, a general of the Army with three stars, descended. He was brought immediately to Mr. Regis, who received him with affection. “General Freeman, of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,” he said to his friends. “He has come to take me to Washington.”
Durant was amazed. A Minute Man among the Joint Chiefs of Staff! There he stood, this young, fresh-faced man with the strenuous blue eyes, smiling at them, shaking their hands, congratulating them. His voice was controlled, but had undertones of excitement. He had a great deal of news for them. Washington was in complete disorder and la
y under a fog of terror. The bureaucrats were barricading themselves in their homes. Most of the Senators had fled the city. Nothing moved there at all, except the patrolling soldiers. President Slocum was drinking himself blind. He alternately called for his friends, or cursed them. He wept and ranted and raged; and he carried a gun in his hand. He trembled when a door opened. The Joint Chiefs of Staff were with him, and the Chief Magistrate. The Chiefs of Staff could only sit, staring before them in dread, and drinking. The Chief Magistrate, said General Freeman with gravity, was very calm.
And the people were doing nothing at all, unless briefly provoked. They simply stayed in their houses, ponderous in their might, unshakable in their silence.
The first white rays of the cold morning sun fell on the white earth. The flag met the sun with a billow of pride. The company went out with Mr. Regis to watch him take off. Long after the helicopter was only a speck in the frozen blue of the sky they waved to it in their excitement and relief. Alice Steffens cried unashamedly, and smiled and laughed, though her eyes remained haunted.
They ate breakfast in front of the screen, and listened intently. An officer came in, somewhat disturbed. Thousands of people from the city were congregating beyond the line of Army tanks and vehicles. They were shouting and pointing at the distant flag near the house. They were singing and calling and gesticulating. None of them attempted to rush the Military. They were content to stand in the snow, feasting their eyes on the banner.
The Devil's Advocate Page 47
